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Gus The Lineman
A Poem by Margaret Walker
GUS, THE LINEMAN,
ROUTE FORTY-NINE;
OUR SMARTEST GUY.
HAD A SMART LINE.
HE HAD NINE LIVES
AND LIVED THEM ALL.
HE CLMBED THE TREES
FROM FALL TO FALL
HE HANDLED JUICE
WHISTLING A TUNE;
CHEWED TOBACCO
AND DRANK BAD MOON.
ONE ON HIS JOB
PAINS IN HIS SIDE
SAID CALL THE DOC
OR TAKE A RIDE.
AND IN THE WARD
THEY SAID HIS SIDE
WAS SO BAD OFF
HE SHOULD HAVE DIED.
BUT GUS COME THROUGH
LIVING THE LIFE
BACK ON THE JOB
‘SPITE OF THAT KNIFE
THE JUICE WENT WILD
AND GREAT BIG CHUNKS
OF FLESH CAUGHT FIRE
AND FELL IN HUNKS.
BUT GUS OUTLIVED
THAT LITTLE FIRE.
HE SOON WAS BACK
HANDLING LIVE WIRE.
IT GOT AORUND
GUS COULD NOT DIE
HE’D LIVED THROUGH DEATH
AND COME THROUGH FIRE.
ONCE SADDY NIGHT
OLD GUS GOT HIGH
DRINKING MOONSHINE
AND GOOD OLDE RYE.
HE STAGGERED HOME
IN PITCH-BLACK NIGHT
AND SWAYED ALONG
FROM LEFT TO RIGHT.
HE FELL INTO
A LITTLE CRICK
AND WENT OUT DEAD
JUST LIKE A BRICK.
THEY FOUND HIM DROWNED
FACE IN THE STREAM
A CUP OF WATER
AND HIS DRUNK DREAM
AND THUS WENT DOWN
A MIGHTY GUY—
GUS, THE LINEMAN,
WHO COULD NOT DIE.