A poem: "my anger-prone husband, most cruel of the deputies."

"You like them Trumpet Pitchers"
he said,
fumbling at his
G-Man necktie.

"That's what they are.
What I like."
she said.

"I'll leave a bait of them
on that there sill"
he said,
"for your lovely eyes
to savor."

"What of my
anger-prone husband,
who happens to be
the most cruel
of all the deputies?"
she said.

"Now,"
he said,
"I'm just a dumb
Tennessee boy
that made it
all the way to
being a regular
Jay Edgar,
probing the murder
of them
civil rights workers
what was from
the north,
with the lot of them
being several
young negroes
and one Jew,
but I take heed
what my Mammie
taught me."

"Soft heart,
hard ass."

"We was well-met,
irrespective,"
she said.
"A rich man
and a Jewess
wriggled-away
from the thoroughfare,
into the undergrowth
of the wood,
where the lonely yelling
of them coyotes
washed over us
like the aquamarine
brines."