High on the Hog

Julia Fields

High on the Hog

Take my share of Soul Food—
I do not wish
To taste of pig
                  Of either gut
                              or Grunt
                              from bowel
                                    Or jowl

I want caviar
Shrimp souffle
Sherry
                  Champagne
                                    And not because
                  These are the
                  Whites' domain
                  But just because
                  I'm entitled—

For I've been
                                    V.d.'d enough
                                    T.b.'d enough
                        and
                  Hoe-cake fed Knock-Knee'd enough
                  Spindly led-bloodhound tree'd enough
                                    To eat
                                    High on the Hog
                  I've been
                                    Hired last
                                    Fired first enough
                  I've sugar-watered my
                                    Thirst enough

                  Been lynched enough
                                    Slaved enough
                                    Cried enough
                                    Died enough

                  Been deprived—
                                    Have survived enough
                                                      To eat
                                    High on the Hog

Keep the black-eyed peas
                                    And the grits
                                    The high blood-pressure chops
                                    And gravy sops

I want aperitifs supreme
                                    Baked Alaska
                  Something suave, cool
                  For I've been considered faithful fool
                  From 40 acres and a mule . . .

I've been
                  Slighted enough
                  Sever-righted enough
                  And up tighted enough
      And I want
                  High on the Hog

For dragging the cotton sack
                  On bended knees
                  In burning sun
                  In homage to the
                                    Great-King cotton
                  For priming the money-green tobacco
                                    And earning pocket-change

                  For washing in iron pots
                  For warming by coal and soot
                  For eating the leavings from
                                    Others' tables
I've lived my wretched life
                  Between domestic rats
                                    And foreign wars
                  Carted to my final rest
                                    In second-hand cars

But I've been leeched enough
                  Dixie-peached enough
                  Color bleached enough

                  And I want
                  High on the Hog!

Oh, I've heard the Mau Mau
                  Screaming

                  Romanticising Pain
                  I hear them think
                  They go against the Grain

But I've lived in shacks
                                    Long enough
                  Had strong black beaten
                                    Backs long enough

And I've been
                  Urban-planned
                                    Been moynihanned
                                    Enough
                  And I want
                  High on the Hog

Julia Fields, East of Moonlight, Red Clay Books, 1973.