Corny Memories From Childhood
I buried that dog in a cornfield;
the one who liked cornbread so much
he died of black tongue, with yellow eyes.

You wouldn’t think a diet of corn
would make mule farts so foul
they fertilized the fields they plowed.

When depression times and prohibition
were conflated, it called for fermentation
and growth of hidden whiskey stills.

When the sheriff emptied barrels of whiskey
into the streets of Summerville
good citizens kneeled at the curbs with dippers.

Walt Abbott–12-13-08