1

What is poetry?

The skunk curled up in the feed bucket?

Or you as you unwittingly carry it down

from 6 to 9,

set the bucket on the flat of the flatbed?

You watch it scurry, a bit shocked,

that is, the skunk.

2

We have just gotten back with a load of sawdust from Maywood Furniture Factory on Bulb Ave.

Or was that Thompson?

The dust would be covered over all our clothes.

At home

my dad would take a broom and sweep me off.

We breathe in lots of fine dust-

fine indeed–

as well as ammonia.

One day my draft notice comes, one day

I guess as it should have been:

it was fine.

I trade my shovel for a rifle.

© October 9, 2013 by UT2