Rufus

Rufus said his prayers as we pushed him

out the boxcar door. He hung up in

a barbwire coil, and we clattered down

the track. We spooned up all his

beans, then smoked up his tobacco.

We tore his bedroll and found nothing,

yellowed letters, a picture of his Pa,

and shame before God, who judged

us on those scrubby plains while

we lay in straw corners, our guts full

of hatred for what we'd taken, for

his crooked teeth and his shuffling gait.

But he'd tasked our generosity.

Reviews

[Arundass TP]

Nicely written poem. Enjoyed reading