"From the Kentucky Hills in a Time of War" ~~ a cycle of unrhymed sonnets

 

From the Kentucky Hills in a Time of War

A book of unrhymed sonnets based closely on the letters of a young, newly-married woman to her husband in the training camp at Quantico, Virginia in 1917, shortly before he was shipped overseas.  Written mostly among the isolated hills of her childhood home in Wolfe County, Kentucky, the letters are tender and touching with some lyrical passages, but also unsparing in their naturalistic descriptions of hardship and dysfunction.

~ ~ ~

America to Al / Jeffersonville, Kentucky / October 8, 1917

Apart from Aunt Nora who's just as kind

as she can be, all the old women here

are spiteful and mean and even make fun

of the way I talk, but I don’t much care.

They say I am foolish to promise myself

to a soldier who’s going straight to war,

but I said I would marry no one else

for if a man doesn’t have life enough

to fight for his country he isn’t likely

to fight for me. — Another old lady

said what a disgrace it was that I

should get myself into trouble like that.

What trouble? I asked, but she wouldn’t say.

I no longer listen to them at all.

But my little cousins all like me fine.

They snuggle up close and sleep with me too

and follow me everywhere that I go,

but the older women just criticize.

They say my dresses are much too short

and more becoming to a girl of twelve

than a woman of twenty.  The young girls here

go around all day on Sunday with

their sun-bonnets on, but I refuse

to wear them at all.  And in one house

where I visited there was one little girl

so drunk she could hardly stand up straight.

She was only three years old.  That hurt me

worse than anything I have seen.

 

And Al, the chickens just strutted around

on the table, scratching and pecking for crumbs

like they owned the place— and then I met

a young husband and pretty wife so poor

they had to make do in a chicken coop.  

— I would have given most anything

if you could have been with me yesterday

and seen the old cabin where I was born.

I couldn’t find it at first, so hidden

in nettles and horseweeds as it was. 

I thought I would step inside for a bit

and say hello to an old ghost or two,

but it was so dark and smelled of old dirt 

and the sadness was more than I could bear.

 

~ ~ ~

America to Al / Jeffersonville, Kentucky / October 11, 1917

 

How I wish you’d been with me yesterday

when we went for apples and had to climb

a hill so steep that our wagon and mules

nearly spilled over backwards.  The little road

was so narrow there wasn't any room

to walk alongside to drive and the banks

so high the mules couldn’t possibly

turn out on either side — so we simply

let go of the reins and followed behind.

Never seen such a road in all my life

but, Al, the apples were just wonderful

and I’m going to send you some.  I got

a bushel for 50 cents and fourteen

more for a dime, so I did pretty well.

~ ~ ~

America to Al / Jeffersonville, Kentucky / October 12, 1917

 

I got a letter from you today which 

was written on Tuesday in which you said

you would ship out soon.  I'm going to send

a box anyway and I still don't know

if even one of my letters has reached you.

You said you were only about as well

as could be expected and just holding on.

--Oh, Al, I also hated to leave you

beside the train in the dark that night.

It was the hardest thing I have ever done,

but no more than thousands of other girls

are asked to do, and I am no better

than any of them, but still . . . it is more

on certain nights than I think I can stand.

 ~ ~ ~

America to Al / Jeffersonville, Kentucky / October 18, 1917

I am glad you liked all the things I sent.

One of papa's brothers sent the yellow

apple and one of his sisters the jell.

I sent all the rest myself.  I'm sorry

the cake didn't look so good, being burned.

I climbed the tree, picked the apples and payed

a dime for them.  And I made the candy.

I am glad you got them before you left.

I sure had some time getting everything

collected all in one place together

and I had to carry that box a mile.

I'm afraid for you sailing so far away.

Even if my heart could speak I wouldn't

know how to write it, so good-bye for now.