Prairie Poetry   
  Carrie Nation

I would turn every saloon
in Kansas into a woodpile,

and issue an axe to every woman.

Who needs husbands
who come home
as if they've been stumbling
through a storm all night?

Do you think a fermenting husband
gets better with age?

Think of your husband's backhand,
which can fly in your face
faster than a curse
should you bring his drinking

His liver
like a sponge soaked
all night in a tub of rum.

Are we to do nothing?

Girls, gather at the saloons.
Bring your axes, and throw

your stones like

  Bob Bradshaw
  Copyright © 2006 Bob Bradshaw
  Author Index | Biographies | Support Prairie Poetry | Month Index | Year Index | Guestbook | Home