His mother was southern
Jenny was her name. Jenny Bluet.
She had the bloodlines, the gold
acres of scratchy tobacco—
the ground where she played was radiant;
His papi tumbled in from Charleston.
She grew to love him.
He, too, had a name,
a seedbed and a space-heater.
They called him Harley—
Harley Trefoil Bluet.
Altogether so cool.