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The Missouri Review

Poetry | August 05, 2019

Poetry: Chris Hayes

Chris Hayes

Hey Y’all Watch This

I yelled it for the first time standing on a roof’s edge

like all those other idiots you’ve seen in videos.

Shirtless, greased with sun, ready to jump

onto a four-wheeler idling below

to impress a girl, but not just any girl,

my brother’s, who became his wife, then his ex,

tired of his addictions, which he learned

from our dad, who once drove his motorcycle

through a high school gymnasium. He didn’t wreck,

didn’t drown when he jumped off a bridge,

cannonballing into the Cumberland

to snatch a water moccasin

while his wife looked away. This phrase

branded across my tongue. Uttered everywhere

in the South, I heard it hollered

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