“Moving to Tennessee, 1944”
Book Excerpt: Nameless as the Minnows
Moving to Tennessee, 1944
after Mary Morris
Goodbye to cousins, grandparents, coal tipple
and craggy mountains, smoke from smoldering
slag heaps. We have packed the car with pillows,
blankets, tucked the dog into his box,
called the movers for the couch and chairs.
Hello to towering peaks of ancient Cherokee
lands, to clear rivers and calm lakes, the puzzle
of a fenced city. Hello to strangers living
in the other end of our house, to hearing
unknown voices through the walls.
We are a city of nomads, Maine to
New Mexico, Oregon to Florida, former
coal miners and white-coated scientists.
We wander muddy roads, stand in lines
for coffee, sugar, save gasoline rationing
coupons for fuel to travel back home
where they fry chicken for our dinner,
pile us kids all into one bed, spread sheets
over the living room daybed for the adults.
We have traveled too far to truly return,
migrants formed from stardust but not
yet of the heavens. Someday we will
journey through constellations, gaze
upon the Earth, a misty blue sphere
floating in a dark sea. And we will
weep for the fragility of such a home.
Copyright©️ 2025 by Connie Jordan Green. Excerpted from Nameless as the Minnows (Madville Publishing). Reprinted with permission. All rights reserved.
Connie Jordan Green is the author of novels for young people, poetry chapbooks and collections, and a personal newspaper column that ran for more than 42 years. Her poetry and prose have appeared in numerous journals and anthologies. She is the recipient of awards for her writing including induction into the East Tennessee Writers Hall of Fame, a Tribute to the Arts Award from the Oak Ridge Arts Council, and inclusion in Listen Here: Women Writing in Appalachia (University Press of Kentucky, 2003). She taught creative writing for the University of Tennessee and continues to teach at various workshops.
