Saturday, January 28, 2012


The rusty gun, 
a murder weapon, 
found in Grandma’s flowerbed, prize winning iris, 
heavy and once the color of precious metals, 
hey LBJ, 
how many boys you killed today, 
I killed seven myself, 
my lucky number, 
Charlie, Charlie, don’t sing to me, 
not in the daylight you son-of-a-bitch, 
my cousin was a war hero, 
twelve years older than me, 
nineteen a young age to die, 
he had a funeral, 
they played a trumpet by the grave, 
made my brother cry, 
another brother laughed, 
I missed the funeral feast, 
watched the fight instead, 
Dad was pissed, 
dirty underwear in public,
and on a day like this, 
I didn’t see no underwear, 
but I lost my damn gun, 
and don’t know where, 
I already looked in Grandma’s flowerbed.

About Douglas Polk:
Douglas Polk is a poet living in the wilds of central Nebraska with his wife and two boys. He has had numerous poems , three books of poems, and two children's books published. Poetry books are: In My Defense, The Defense Rests, and On Appeal. The children's books are: The Legend of Garle Pond, and Marie's Home.

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