The Beetles

Oh, de boll weevil am a little black bug,
Come from Mexico, dey say,
Come all de way to Texas,
Jus’ a-lookin’ foh a place to stay,

My father left the farm to serve, his plan
to see the world, on metal ships with boys

in blue and white.  At seventeen he saw
the war from decks and guns––the noises, soot

and odors wriggled in beside the crops
like cotton boll weevils that laid their eggs

and flew.  Japan became fusuma doors,
partitions in his head, to separate

the guilt he shared. The paper walls were thin,
the painted panels sighed, until the cracks

released advancing, munching beetles. Japs
and Nazis roared to bomb his ship, the sky

aflame with orange.  What if bombs that took
the crew went port side instead of starboard?

The DTT, unleashed on bugs had saved
the fields, but his own poison did not  sleep.


© 2011 Kim King


About k2king

Poeming to save myself
This entry was posted in My poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to The Beetles

  1. everydaylifestyles says:

    Excellent post thanks for sharing this. I enjoy reading your blog very much. Reading poems is something I truly enjoy. It’s very relaxing and soothing.

    Raining Purple Rain – Haiku Poem

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