A Sunday Morning

That trap__

Shouldn’t have 

Checked it before heading 

Off to church, but we did.

No groundhog but worse,

A skunk, hind leg clasped

Firmly, stared with beady eyes

As we approached garden’s edge

Standing there in our wool

Suits knowing it inhumane 

To wait, Uncle Ralph said,

Sam, get the gun.

Meaning, of course,

An old Remington 22

By the fireplace_

The double barrel 

Was fetched instead.

Uncle Ralph glanced at his watch,

Shrugged his shoulders,

Reluctantly accepted the shotgun,

Turned, aimed and fired,

We’ll take care of it when we get back

For one eternal hour

Seated in the pews

Of that small church

An uncomfortable congregation 

Imagined the sulfurous 

Stench of hell was upon them….

We feigned innocence,

Knowing it was really upon us.

-Wayne H. Swanger