Runcible Spoon

poetry and prose webzine

Poetry Prose Submissions Contributors Home heart logo Privacy Notice Links Craig Paulenich



My enemies are like unto

a bone yard, dust bowl,

house on fire,

quicklimed cow,

bedbug, head lice,

creek at the porch step,

wind like a locomotive.


Their mothers are pillars of salt.

They hand their daughters to the mob.


My enemies are like unto

a Bone Church, empty ditch,

rabid dog in the ravine,

hemorrhoids like red buttons,

hair dryer in the bathtub,

station wagon chassis up,

scorpion like a fishhook on the pillow.


Their daughters lie down with angels,

their mothers handle snakes.


My enemies are like unto chimneys,

iron lungs, skull bowls,

deer flung along the berm,

thumb in the band saw,

fangs in a boot heel,

broken wheel, leaky boat,

wounds with parted lips.