On a hot Saturday morning
Aunt Sugar packs us all up
Into her long green 1959 Pontiac
July whipping through the windows
Four children squirm in the back seat
When Aunt Beulah suddenly shouts
She sees Jesus in the light of
The passenger seat mirror
We pull up to the tiny
Hebron Baptist Church
Two Magnolia trees, large and proud
Framing a much-used white tent
There’s Aunt Snookie with her
Dyed too-black hair
Wildly haloing her shoulders
Clip-on earrings hanging like purple grapes
Close beside her is Cousin Zippo
In his bulging tight pants
With a little James Brown swagger
He helps us with our picnic basket
In the stale summer heat
The preacher gathers us all up
For a short walk to Croatan Sound
To give us a taste of what is holy
Along the path dripping
With hanging grey moss
I spot a snake in its sleeve of heat
Eye-slits ajar taking a good look
Now, we are all Methodists
Used to a little sprinkling
And this dunking business is all new
But Aunt Beulah insists she needs it
The preacher leads Aunt Beulah to the water
She holds her nose and back she goes
For the cold immersion
New Testament words flung over the water
Aunt Beulah’s skirt bellows like a blowfish
Her feet start kicking like she might drown
She hovers a little above the earth
Even flies a little—a single blurred moment
But by her own strength she pops up
Coughing spitting gasping cursing
You SOB, that was too long
You about drowned me, Aunt Beulah shouts
Aunt Sugar quickly gathers us all up
We take off running—Kicking it into high gear
Cousin Zippo close to busting his pants
Aunt Snooki’s hair bringing up the rear
We snatch up our deviled eggs
Corn and still-warm fried chicken
Cover it with tinfoil and the
Un-reborn Methodists scatter for home
We leave the lemon pound cake
That sunny yellow circle
Its center missing like a mouth leaking
Bless your heart
