Poetry of Love, Resistance, & Solidarity

As a boy, I remember the belt

Two inches wide, brown leather

Folded and snapped to pop

Before the licking

 

I suppose I deserved the

Lash, a voice of discontent

At the end of a summer’s day

The battle bathed the backyard

 

A German soldier here

A Japanese brigade there

They needed the pin pull

And boom to guard home

And save my mid-state family

 

The chickens did

Not miss the two

Hundred; they would

Never see the hatch

— Dan Pohl

Dan Pohl grew up across the state of Kansas from Lucas to Lawrence, Americus to Zenda as his father help build I-70 and grain elevators, moving every two years, forever the “new kid.” He lives in Moundridge, Kansas and instructs English composition at Hutchinson Community College in Hutchinson, Kansas.

 

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Comments on: "95. Chicken Egg Grenades" (1)

  1. Rick Nichols said:

    Cute little poem. As they say, boys will be boys.

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