Linebreak was a weekly magazine of original poetry. We retired in 2017, but the archives remain online for all to enjoy.

Thanks to all of our volunteer editors, contributors, and readers.

Barn

Amorak Huey

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.

Amorak Huey recently left the newspaper business after 15 years as a reporter and editor. He teaches writing at Grand Valley State University in Michigan, where he is also managing editor of the new journal Wake: Great Lakes Thought & Culture. His poetry has appeared in Gargoyle, Poet Lore, Atlanta Review, Crab Orchard Review, and elsewhere. He can be found online at www.amorakhuey.net.