Klan Giant

By TOMMYE BLOUNT

 

“Made of Duretta cloth and sateen, embroidered in silk.
Cotton cord and tassels. Price, each $6.00″
—from Catalogue of Official Robes and Banners, Knights of the Ku Klux Klan

Look up here, the air is Aryan. The moon, 
our white hood. Our life must loom large 
above that which is darkened in our shadow.
A fate loomed long ago, ours

in the weft and warp of hems,
a lowered white curtain on this 
re-coonstructed show called Pursuit
of their Happiness. The fall of our robe’s drape 

is their downfall, so we must be the season, winter 
them with our long reach. This long white 
train, an invisible locomotive to an indivisible
empire—underground, a railroad housed 

in the myth of Equality. Let’s go down to the river 
and post above the water’s edge;
loot the coins from their bodies, set them loose
down that river; its big mouth gurgling underfoot.

 

 

Tommye Blount is the author of the chapbook What Are We Not For and the debut full-length collection Fantasia for the Man in Blue. Born and raised in Detroit, Tommye now lives in Novi, Michigan.

[Purchase Issue 24 here.] 

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

Klan Giant

Related Posts

July 2026 Poetry Feature

AMIYA MORETTA
Magnolia tree in the window, hammock, / a loop in hours, a cradle of light we swing inside, / naming what we’re afraid of. / In this version, he is from halfway around the world. / Some net caught the curve of us in the dark, / gathered what it could, his hand, my pulse.

Caribbean picture

Self-Portrait in The Caribbean

PAOLA ASSAD BARBARINO
Sometimes I am emboldened, / I decide to stand in the people’s balcony / I decide it is Maundy Thursday I decide to place a priest behind me that can speak to the people behind / my back / I decide to put out the fire and light my throat / scream

Feltspade

ELIAS SADAQ
I serve out my conscription / sleep in a bunk bed / for four cold months / in the engineer regiment at Skive Garrison / in a room with three other men / I fuck the colonel / the only sign that time is passing / is a pile of snow outside the window / that grows smaller