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.