Bomber – Wayne F. Burke


the big backyard tree
hard as iron
had soft smooth bark of shallow ridges
I ran my hand over
and pressed my cheek against
without fear of splinters…
It grew string bean-like pods
a foot long with leathery skin
and stuff like feathers inside
my Uncle said they were watermelon seeds
and I wondered if it was a lie,
like everything else he said.
Dinner plate-sized leaves hid me
as I sat
high up
in the “bomber’s seat”
a thick branch
that wiggled when I jounced it
and from where
I dropped the bombs,
when I was upset,
on people below–
ones who deserved it.

Wayne F. Burke’s poetry has appeared in a variety of publications (including The Bees Are Dead). His three published poetry collections, all from Bareback Press, are WORDS THAT BURN (2013), DICKHEAD (2015), and  KNUCKLE SANDWICHES (2016). His chapbook, PADDY WAGON, is scheduled for publication by Epic Rites press in 2016. He lives in the central Vermont area.


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