~ Delta Poetry Review ~

Alyx Chandler

Midwesterners Ask Where I’m From

Brief as a redneck shower,

frown-lines brawl between brows

and Alabama unstitches from my

throat like the name of an uncle

no one speaks to anymore. A

curse, this dissidence obvious

as my body in a downpour, curves

cut from cling-wrapped clothes.

People beam at me. No accent!

and I realize: I’ve accomplished

something. Cue the thunder of

childhood manners; decorum

slips. Ma’am a habit sticky as

tar oozed from longleaf pines.

Burned abundance. I don’t

say how my drawl slackens

my tongue when I’ve been

drinking, how bless your heart

is an insult if you use it right.

Never question that kinship.

My throat dries history,

triggers drought. I tap

memory for its resin,

try to understand what

parts are spoiled: did I

attempt to erase my lineage

to cruelty? Distance myself

from mouths that birth syllables

slow? Honey-dripped

sounds. In this hive,

so much sweet paired with

sting—and always, this

need to please. People say

they never woulda guessed

Al – uh – bam – uh. Always,

a smile barbs my cheeks,

host mode activated. How

can I help you? What can I

provide? This is the part

of my accent that survived.

The fawn response. The rest?

Haunts like an empty rocking

chair, wooden legs bowing day

and night, long-dead specters

clacking their teeth in spite.

Alyx Chandler (she/her) is a poet from the South who now teaches in Chicago. She received her MFA in poetry at the University of Montana, where she was a Richard Hugo Fellow and taught poetry. Her poetry can be found in the Southern Poetry Anthology, EPOCH, Greensboro Review, and elsewhere at alyxchandler.com.