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The Baltimore Catechism

(Excerpt)
DOWN THE FOREST ROAD
down the forest road
limped
a man in black.
a lean man with thin eyes.
his face was not a kind one.
on his left hand
was a sailor’s kiss;
his right hand leaned on a cane
silver and polished.


he walked
over to the porch
where I was resting,
asked me
how far it was ’til dusk,
then he looked
at my silver watch
fastened
to my side
by a silver chain.
he looked to the sky
and behind him,
wiped his brow
and asked me if I could please end his thirst.

so I went
into the kitchen
over to the pump
where a shotgun leaned
nestling two shells in her womb,
picked her up
returned
and handed both to him.