Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Karl Koweski- Three Poems

Saint Polish Hammer

the Koweski clan were
instantly reminded of
the triumph of St. George
over the satanic dragon
by the way I battled the
three foot long rat snake coiled
along the top of the screen door

after an hour long skirmish
feinting with the garden hoe,
jabbing with a machete,
several strategic retreats,
I dispatched the serpent
with a frenzied series of
blade chops to its spade shaped head

it could be argued the rat snake
is a harmless creature chased
atop the patio door’s high ground
by constant rainstorms and flooding
and this may be true
were I trekking through the woods
and happened upon a rat snake
I would kindly continue my way
allowing the serpent it’s life

a rat snake showing up on
my doorstep, however, is
committing suicide by Polack
in my estimation

be that as it may
by the time I’m done
embellishing this story
future generations
will be telling their children
how Saint Polish Hammer
slaughtered Godzilla
armed only with a
buck knife and garden hoe

in conversation

rats scurry
beneath my words
gnawing at the edges
of definitions
spreading a plague
of half truths

her words are wolves
and my blood drip
from the snouts of
the entire pack
of lies

the super center society

I swing by the Wal-Mart super center
two, three times a day
whether I need to shop or not

it is a sad fact
of Alabama rural living
there are very few hubs of social activity
that doesn’t involve smoking
crystal meth inside bombed out
house trailers

there is the Friday night chicken fights
on the Madison back acreage
I have to question the ethics
of cock fighting
there seems to be far too much
steroid abuse in the rooster ranks
and the specter of fixed fights
constantly hangs over every event
making even the most ardent gambler
leery of betting his family’s
food budget on the
yellow-legged bandy

the weekly You Kill It, We Grill It
Wednesday night dinner
sponsored by the Northern Alabama
chapter of the Aryan Brotherhood,
makes for an interesting evening
though the speeches tend toward
the hyperbolic
and the cuisine is sometimes inedible
depending on whether or not
the protein’s bowels were ruptured
during vehicular impact

or there’s church
snake handling, strychnine drinking style
like Biblical fear factor

so I find myself wandering
the Wal-Mart aisles
perusing the very best
Chinese industry has to offer
three o clock in the morning
trying to make meaningful eye contact
with the dazed fifty year old woman
stocking Alpo dog food.

on average, you can ask a stocker
what her astrological sign is
2.25 times before she alerts
the manager

I wear the reputation of a ladies man
like an orange suit jacket
two sizes too large,
yet my constant appearances in
the Wal-Mart produce section
introducing myself as The Polish Hammer
to the woman with the scars
of severe canine induced facial lacerations
has gotten me nowhere

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