Potato Gunner

By Matthew Harris

Dad made me and Mitch a potato gun
out of PVC pipe, an ignition switch,
and some hairspray for starter.
The thud of spuds onto beer bottles
weighted down by spit and chew
and cigarette butts.  Our shoulders sore for days.

Did my brother think of this
when he fired at that raghead silo?
The frag, some sick game of hot potato.
Shrapnel shifted under his boots like
shells on a beach. No, more like broken glass.

Some spuds in the fridge root
in the spilt crumb compost of the bottom shelf.
Months gone by, green tendrils climbing the milk jug
are reaching for the frigid light.

****

Matthew Harris is a published children’s author and poet living in Batesville, MS. His work, including the poem “Misfortune Cookie,” has been featured in Oprelle’s Matter II Volume I anthology. An educator, lifelong learner, and brother to an Army veteran, he explores themes of everyday irony and connection.