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moonshine
by Charlie Morgan
moon shined on papa as he made moonshine.
papa cooked for men, quarts of elixir;
mason jars of clear gold, a farmer's smile
all connected under a pecan grove, snug
in east Texas Piney Woods, Sugar Hill.
named by locals for quantities of sugar
bought by farmers and wives, kids too.
enough to float a battleship and enough
to drown a family, job, and a future.
swilling became a form of killing
as the poor stayed poor, now drunk.
lost in another's world of dreams
each bootlegger stole away at night
hiding his shame of being: Dream-slayer.
04/29/2008 Posted on 04/29/2008
Copyright © 2026 Charlie Morgan
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Ryan Nardi on 04/29/08 at 08:22 PM great weight and counterweight going on here. ~float a battleship or drown a family~ it's honest, and the wordplay is so conversational that it mixes in seamlessly. well done. but if it were a steak it'd be medium, nicely seared and sealed on the outside and bloody on the inside. |
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