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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