WEBVTT
Kind: captions
Language: en

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Bellringer, I was given a name, it came
out of a book - I don't know which. I've

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been told the Great Man could recite
every title in order on its shelf. Well, I

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was born and that was a good thing,
although I arrived on the day of his

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passing, a day on which our country fell
into mourning. This I heard over and over,

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from professor's to farmers even duel-scarred students, sometimes, in grand

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company, remarked upon in third person -
a pretty way of saying more than two men

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in a room means the third can be ignored,
as I was when they spoke of my birth and

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Mr. Jefferson's death in one breath,
voices dusted with wonderment, faint

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sunlight quivering on a hidden breeze. I
listened in on the lectures whenever I

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can, holding still until I disappear
beyond third person - and what I hear

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sounds right enough; it eases my mind. I
know my appearance frightens some of the

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boys - the high cheeks and freckles and
not-quite-Negro eyes flaring gray as

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storm-washed skies back home; it shames
them to be reminded. So much for book

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learning! I nod as if to say Uncle Henry
at your service,

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then continue on my way through darkness
to start the day. This is my place: stone

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rookery perched above the citadels of
knowledge, alone with my bats and my bell,

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keeping time. Up here, molten glory brims
until my head's rinsed clear.

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I am no longer a dreadful coincidence
nor debt crossed off in a dead man's

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ledger; I am not summoned, dismissed -
I am the clock's keeper. I ring in their

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ears. And every hour, down in that shining,
blistered republic, someone will pause to

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whisper Henry! - and for a moment my name flies free.