Read by Alexandra Teague
The farmer, husband
to my French teacher and friend
to my mother,
lifted a length
of pipe above his head,
brought it down
hard. Spat anger:
Goddamn possum.
Chickens erupted,
night interrupted
by this intruder, violence.
I remember
feathers, squawks,
a soft cracking sound
almost gentle
as steel
found skull. Goddamn
egg-stealing, hen-killing
fucking possum.
It was dark in the barn
but not
dark enough.
I saw the way
my mother looked at him.