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Brooks Haxton - Sackcloth

         I made sackcloth also my garment; and I 
            became a proverb to them.  They that sit in 
            the gate speak against me; and I was the 
            song of drunkards.        Psalm 102

I made sackcloth my garment once, by cutting
arm and neck holes into a burlap bag.
A croker sack they called it.  Sackdragger
they called the man who dragged a croker sack
between the cotton rows to pick.  He dragged
a gunnysack behind him in the ditch
collecting empties.  Him they chose
the Likeliest to Sack Seed in the feed store,
or to suck seed.  He was your daddy.  He sacked
groceries part-time, and they jeered:
you sorry sack of shit.  Sackcloth,
which Job sewed upon his skin, was goat hair.
God who clothed the heavens with such blackness
said, I make sackcloth their covering.
Isaiah understood.  God had him speak a word
in season to the weary.  Speak, Isaiah, now, to me.
Before the stars like green figs in a windstorm
drop, the sun is black as sackcloth, and the moon
becomes as blood.  My soul is weary.  Speak,
Isaiah.  Sing.  I was a scholar as a boy:
I cut the neck and arm holes into the burlap,
pulled it on, and cinched it with a hank of rope:
what I have done from then till now is itch.

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Added: Nov 10 2005 | Viewed: 306 times | Comments and analysis of Sackcloth by Brooks Haxton Comments (1)

Sackcloth - Comments and Information

Poet: Brooks Haxton
Poem: Sackcloth
Volume: Uproar
Poem of the Day: Apr 18 2014

Comment 1 of 1, added on March 13th, 2009 at 11:52 AM.

This poem jumps out at me because not only is it highly metephorical and uses figurative speech, but it seems to have hidden messeges in it. I dont know if its me but i think he uses great word choice.

Jeremy Hamond from United States

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