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LINDA STANSBERRY

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Hog Hunting

March 31, 2015

The old man lost his license

Now they say he'll lose his leg

But he still drives his old jeep to town

And of the leg

He says

“I think I'll keep it.”

He sleeps in a borrowed trailer

On land electric lines don't touch

On land water pipes don't reach

On land gone acid with his sweet-smelling piss

When you want to see him you drive out and holler

He'll come to the door waving a rifle

The trailer's stuffed with his smell

And old saddles

Old gun stocks

Magazines with young girls in them

Old women still bring him pies

He's not supposed to eat

He wears that shirt his first wife sewed for him

Though now he can only button it at the top

He wants to go hog hunting

Thinks he still knows someone with some hounds

And do we know anyone who's still got hogs on his land?

Used to be

That open country was prime for hog wallows

They'd root out the ground, keep the young firs

From taking over and swallowing the grassland

Now the young firs are tall

His chin shakes

His stubble is dyed orange with dip

“I'm going hunting this fall,

Hog hunting.”

“It'll kill you,”

We tell him

“Oh I'll die,” he says

“But goddamn

I'm gonna die

With a gun in my hand.”

Tags poetry, Big George, rural
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Short essays about people, politics, relationships, books, writing, ranching, travel and other great stuff. Opinions are, as ever, my own. Oh, also some poetry, because why not?