Arkansas License Plate
Dublin Core
Title
Description
A poem by Baylee Seeman
Creator
Date Available
2021
Subject
Months--Poetry
Poetry
Poetry
Language
en-US
Type
text
Format
Identifier
Seeman_Arkansas.jpg
Seeman_Arkansas.pdf
Seeman_Arkansas.pdf
Is Part Of
Source
Rights
Copyright protected by Baylee Seeman. Use of materials from this collection beyond the exceptions provided for in the Fair Use and Educational Use clauses of the U.S. Copyright Law may violate federal law. Permission to publish or reproduce is required.
Publisher
Scripto
Transcription
Note on transcription: This transcription may not reflect the poetic form established by the poet. Please refer to the PDF file of this poem available in the Files section for proper formatting.
Arkansas License Plate
The flash of blue captured my glance,
driving through the Arizona red rock.
Its bird's foot violet and daisy background,
powder blue fading to a light cream.
And its curved maroon letters along the edges:
ARKANSAS. The Natural State.
Natural cotton, natural rice, natural corn--
Unnatural cancer from constant crop dusting.
It plagued my small delta town. I escaped
the plague and moved to sprawling red rock.
But not before it took my grandfather,
and left his skin bloated yellow and toenails rotted.
It’ll pull you in with diamond promises,
and turn you out with blistering, sweaty palms,
and a razorback neck from picking the red rice
so tired moms won’t scream when they pour their brats
Rice Krispies. Those moms don’t care how we toil
in the rice fields and leave covered in mosquito bites.
Oh Arkansas, oh Arkansas, Arkansas U.S.A.
It’s the spirit of the tired, it’s the spirit of labor.
It’s the race to escape to the red rocks, It’s the spirit of my farmer father--
who harvests rice in a faded crimson combine
with a flathead screwdriver as a key.
Arkansas License Plate
The flash of blue captured my glance,
driving through the Arizona red rock.
Its bird's foot violet and daisy background,
powder blue fading to a light cream.
And its curved maroon letters along the edges:
ARKANSAS. The Natural State.
Natural cotton, natural rice, natural corn--
Unnatural cancer from constant crop dusting.
It plagued my small delta town. I escaped
the plague and moved to sprawling red rock.
But not before it took my grandfather,
and left his skin bloated yellow and toenails rotted.
It’ll pull you in with diamond promises,
and turn you out with blistering, sweaty palms,
and a razorback neck from picking the red rice
so tired moms won’t scream when they pour their brats
Rice Krispies. Those moms don’t care how we toil
in the rice fields and leave covered in mosquito bites.
Oh Arkansas, oh Arkansas, Arkansas U.S.A.
It’s the spirit of the tired, it’s the spirit of labor.
It’s the race to escape to the red rocks, It’s the spirit of my farmer father--
who harvests rice in a faded crimson combine
with a flathead screwdriver as a key.
Files
Collection
Citation
Baylee Seeman, “Arkansas License Plate,” Mississippi State University Libraries, accessed December 22, 2024, https://msstate-exhibits.libraryhost.com/items/show/2275.
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