H is for homespun, homicide.


What is more homespun
than a Midwestern farmer, his quilting wife,
a family in denial?

We thought we knew them but we didn’t
pry. Two great grandparents scratching out a life
to live.

Four bodies interred in dirt barn floors,
and, weighted with a concrete block and chain,
a fifth

was found deep down inside a well: victims
of a scam to rustle cattle: Bad cheques and vagrants,
a Marlin Varmint rifle,

a list of names with an x beside, a quilt
of dead men’s clothes, a legacy of violence,
duty, guilt.