MY DAD
or, Son of a Sailor
by Marybeth Niederkorn, Poet Extraordinaire
HE stands
on the hill
cursing a streak
more purple than blue
Behind him his barns
rear to the sky
filled with jetsam
of garage sales gone by
The cattle ignore him
the sheep run amok
And at the top of his lungs
Dad screams
''G*ddamn motherf*cking pieces of stupid sh*tf*cking bastards!''
Mother disapproves...
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