Saturday, August 7, 2021

The Gospel of Barbecue by Honorée Fannonne Jeffers

The Gospel of Barbecue

BY HONORÉE FANONNE JEFFERS

for Alvester James

Long after it was

necessary, Uncle

Vess ate the leavings

off the hog, doused

them with vinegar sauce.

He ate chewy abominations.

Then came high pressure.

Then came the little pills.

Then came the doctor

who stole Vess’s second

sight, the predication

of pig’s blood every

fourth Sunday.

Then came the stillness

of barn earth, no more

trembling at his step.

Then came the end

of the rib, but before

his eyes clouded,

Uncle Vess wrote

down the gospel

of barbecue.

Chapter one:

Somebody got to die

with something at some

time or another.

Chapter two:

Don’t ever trust

white folk to cook

your meat until

it’s done to the bone.

Chapter three:

December is the best

time for hog killing.

The meat won’t

spoil as quick.

Screams and blood

freeze over before

they hit the air.

Chapter four, Verse one:

Great Grandma Mandy

used to say food

you was whipped

for tasted the best.

Chapter four, Verse two:

Old Master knew to lock

the ham bacon chops

away quick or the slaves

would rob him blind.

He knew a padlock

to the smokehouse

was best to prevent

stealing, but even the

sorriest of slaves would

risk a beating for a full

belly. So Christmas time

he give his nasty

leftovers to the well

behaved. The head ears

snout tail fatback

chitlins feet ribs balls.

He thought gratitude

made a good seasoning.

Chapter five:

Unclean means dirty

means filthy means

underwear worn too

long in summertime heat.

Perfectly good food

can’t be no sin.

Maybe the little

bit of meat on ribs

makes for lean eating.

Maybe the pink flesh

is tasteless until you add

onions garlic black

pepper tomatoes

soured apple cider

but survival ain’t never been

no crime against nature

or Maker. See, stay alive

in the meantime, laugh

a little harder. Go on

and gnaw that bone clean.

KISS

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