Poem: "Rebel Scum"

I searched the bars for my friend Billy Yank -

Maggie had been missing for days, and he might

know where to find her if he could only think.

I averted my gaze from the dancers and when 

I saw my blue bellied friend, I went to beg him

for answers. But to my horror, before Billy could

even belch, I saw beside him Jefferson Davis 

himself. 

"Billy Yank, you're in Union blue, in the sight 

of unbelievers! Chumming with a traitor in full 

public view, buying bourbon for the grayest of

Gray deceivers!" 

I dragged Billy to the stall, Jeff Davis not 

seeming to notice me at all; Billy threw up 

on my shoes and I reminded him again of

his sin, and that he wore the Union blue.  

"Captain, calm your fuse" Billy replied, "Old Jeff 

and I are both patrons here. We're just talking 

Predestination; who am I to refuse such sincere 

conversation?"

"He's Rebel scum," I insisted,

"his ears are deaf and dumb to reason -

he's Mississippi's son, unrepentant of his

treason."

"We're both Rebels too, you and me,"

Billy slurred; "we were born in Alabama

amongst that damnable Rebel herd. Our fathers

owned the men we died to set free. The 

only difference is," Billy wiped his bleeding 

mouth, and fell to the floor, "when Cain broke

loose in the South, we were gambling in

Baltimore."

I was indignant; I had no time for rebuke, 

especially by a man I'd once defended, 

now covered in fluid and puke.

"Either you know where Maggie's gone,

or you don't," I said real flat. "I've got to find

her fast." Billy Yank shook his head before 

he breathed his last, and that was that.

At HQ I shook off what Billy said. 

I'm no Rebel, I was born no such

thing; I would much rather be dead and 

swallowed by muck and mud, would

much rather hang, than admit there's 

treason in my blood.

I'll prove it any day  

I'll submit to 23 & Me

and provide my DNA, I told myself;

Then everyone would see I'm more

pure a patriot than Abraham Lincoln himself.