“Intruders at Sunset”

by Bonnie Parker

Believe this,

A man alive

Come snooping around

Searching the shadows

Smell of whiskey

The would make grown men stagger

He discovers

Hard-eyed expressions line the lids

Gritted teeth come out

Hold it, fellows

No bunch of peeping toms

Putters around in the kitchen doorway

Believe this,

Heat on the barn

Dull tin sky

Trail of weevily corn

Poke through the river croaker sheets

To know the snot of the egg

Believe this,

Cause we ain’t messing with people