Ku Klux Klan Robe and Hood, Circa 1925, and: Clare West Designs, and: Hydra Tommye Blount (bio) Keywords poetry, Tommye Blount, Ku Klux Klan, The Birth of a Nation, D.W. Griffith The Henry Ford Museum Held behind the dustless glassI turned into it it was hard to breathemy Black face drowned in white sateenthrough the eye holes I stared outback toward what was me a pleading glancethen accusatory because of what wasn’tsaid when the white man his hands hiddenin his pockets without knowing what to saysaid I’ve seen many of these in my lifeand what would you have had me doI could only stand there in my hood and robesmiling not breathing shut upinside the glass he slips outfrees himselffrom my old trappings pastthe hooked metal collar pastthe bear trap pried open and ready moves on [End Page 483] Clare West Designs I was no wizard. There was nothing under the hood. Griffith wanted my visioneven when the page didn’t want to hold the sketched crosses— the unaddressed skeletons leaningover my shoulder, ready to be fitted for posterity this motion picture offers, but there was no picturein my head. Now, Griffith leans forward on the crossed legs of his chair; shouts into the black megaphone for action, the movementof the dolly, a vehicle propelled by an American vision—with its clear division between light and shadow, which means allthe difference for the white caped heroes looking through the white sheets of their scripts for the linesno one in the audience will hear. And here, just over Griffith’s shoulder, with needle and thread in hand,I wait for the call to mend any loose stitches. [End Page 484] Hydra Made of sateen, embroidered in silk. Silk cord and tassels. Price, each $10.00 This robe also furnished in satin at $20.00 [Specify material desired with order] — from Catalogue of Official Robes and Banners Knights of the Ku Klux Klan Garnet like the edges of Bible pages—no, not that dark, think brighter, more sacred, less symbol of hatred, moreof the revered called to repair this land’s flag bothered ragged by thosecured with the devil’s mark, their tongues too arid to speak in tongues, those sunderedfrom our white robed father above, those easily lured by the red cloven-hoofedking. Let us king our heads in hoods as red as battlefield crosses. Raise your torchesto cauterize their flesh coppered in blackness. [End Page 485] Tommye Blount A Cave Canem alum, tommye blount is the author of the chapbook What Are We Not For—published by Bull City Press in 2016. His debut full-length collection Fantasia for the Man in Blue, published by Four Way Books in 2020, was finalist for numerous awards, among them the National Book Award, the Kate Tufts Discovery Award, the Lambda Literary Award in Gay Poetry, and others. Born and raised in Detroit, Tommye now lives in Michigan. Copyright © 2022 The Massachusetts Review, Inc