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Column 129

Louisiana Line

Intro by Ted Kooser
09.19.2007

North Car­oli­na poet, Bet­ty Adcock, has writ­ten scores of beau­ti­ful poems, almost all of them too long for this space. Here is an exam­ple of her short­er work, the telling descrip­tion of a run-down bor­der town. 

Louisiana Line

The wooden scent of wagons,   
the sweat of animals—these places   
keep everything—breath of the cotton gin,   
black damp floors of the icehouse.   

Shadows the color of a mirror’s back   
break across faces.  The luck   
is always bad.  This light is brittle,   
old pale hair kept in a letter.   
The wheeze of porch swings and lopped gates   
seeps from new mortar.   

Wind from an axe that struck wood   
a hundred years ago   
lifts the thin flags of the town.   

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We do not accept unsolicited submissions

We do not accept unsolicited submissions. American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Poem copyright © 1975 by Betty Adcock. Reprinted from Walking Out, Louisiana State University Press, 1975, with permission of Betty Adcock, whose most recent book is Intervale: New and Selected Poems, Louisiana State University Press, 2001. Introduction copyright © 2024 by The Poetry Foundation.