Whitfield County, Georgia, 1879
Let’s pretend you never had a gun
that summer morning in Georgia.
What was it like, in the frantic flurry
before you died, to pantomime a pistol
and shout “surrender” with all the bravado
of a boy playing sheriff?
You must have remembered
how you scattered red-cheeked chums
with that word, spoken deeply,
a voice like your father’s, when chores
were done, and you had hours to play
before your mothers called you home.
Your hands were all the arms
you needed to tame a lawless town—
two hands, one magic word, and the boys
would throw their own hands high
and drop their sacks of stolen loot
in deference to your tiny tin star.
I’ve seen your photograph, Joseph.
You were not much older than a boy
when they shot you point-blank in the face.
You had the wavy hair and earnest eyes
of every backyard cop I’ve ever known.
How could you not expect the world
to stop at your command?
— & —
Scott Hales is a writer and sometimes artist living in Eagle Mountain, Utah. His book Hemingway in Paradise and Other Mormon Poems was published in 2022.
