Two Poems by Tammy Daniel

Lock, Stock and Barrel

In the corner
by the window,
Dad’s hunting rifles
stood with tung-oiled conviction
like soldiers waiting for the call
to arms, for the next big hunt,
another shot at a white-tailed buck.

“Anybody’d be lucky to have ‘em,”
he’d say to just about anyone
within a beer’s reach.

Seems he was right—
strangely enough
the man at the pawn shop
said the same thing
as I handed him
my check.


 Morning Commute

Along the interstate candy corn-like cones
merge three lanes into two.

Percolating from my car’s stereo,
an overly-caffeinated traffic guy tells me
in his best, midwestern radio voice
the mornin’ rush is  s l o o o w  goin’.
No one but oxen and morons
are laughing.

Then, with great wisdom, the keeper
of all things traffic suggests alternate routes,
allow extra time. Leaves out more useful advice
like stop for gas, remember to go pee.

Now, with tank half-empty, bladder half-full,
I’m caught in the clog like bile threading
an impacted colon. (I mourn the loss of our city’s
arteries since the failed triple bypass.)

Next to me, a red, bull-nosed tow truck
sneaks up alongside, sniffing at the congestion
in a slow succession of false starts and stops.

Across his rear window
a tattoo reads “In Memory of” and
a name.

Makes me think he’s towing a lot more
than cars.

4 Responses to “Two Poems by Tammy Daniel”

  1. Arlin Buyert Says:

    Touching and excellent work!

  2. Alarie Tennille Says:

    You often get a wink from a Tammy Daniel poem. Sometimes it comes with a chuckle, sometimes with goosebumps–which is how “Lock, Stock, and Barrel” affects me…followed by “wish I’d written that.”

  3. Janey Pryor Says:

    Tammy –
    Absolutely WONDERFUL!

  4. Arlin Buyert Says:

    Tammy, Great images and details!
    Well done! Arlin.

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