Whiskey, and: Weeding

Abstract

Whiskey, and: Weeding Evan Gurney (bio) WHISKEY A baptism of fire and water,its birth is a resurrection,a holy spirit for the son and father.I baptize you with firewater,he says, for the sins of fathers,for the empty bottle, the filled coffin.Oh for a baptism of fire, of water!This death is birth is resurrection. [End Page 88] WEEDING You can always find them in the garden,lurking there in the cooler shadows,setting up shop and putting down roots—soil-squatters, mulch-poachers, the illegitimate green. I squat down in professional stancefor a close inspection and calm reach,an executioner crouched and gloved,my leathered fingers itching for the kill. Gently now. A clumsy yank gives the gameaway, just a bitter salad in your hand.Gather up the stalks, lightly stretch their stemsuntil they confess the secrets of their trespass. Then a grip, a twist and tug, and up they comeclawing earth, desperate to hold their claim.By hand or hoe, I’ll have them,piling their limp bodies in mounds: corpses withering in clean weedless air. [End Page 89] Evan Gurney Evan Gurney is an assistant professor of English at the University of North Carolina-Asheville. A former editor of The Carolina Quarterly, his recent poetry has appeared in Angle: A Journal of Poetry in English, Dappled Things, Relief, and Still: The Journal. Copyright © 2018 Berea College