Duck Hunt

by Jessica Myers

The year we got Mario Brothers
was also the year Jen
learned how to shoot things.
Duck Hunt, with its artificial ducks
and dog with the computerized giggle,
was the reason
my sister was convinced
she could go hunting with Dad.
She asked him and said I got good aim.
He laughed but took her anyway.

When they got home he said
She hit the ground
at the first shot
then wanted to go home.
He laughed between wheezes.
She laughed too, as she paled.
She face was white like Star Gazer lilies,
with their red stripes down the center
of each petal, cheerful mistakes that smile
in their ashen canvas.

A few weeks later,
he brought home
what looked to be a duck,
she cried.

It took him two hours
to pluck it, clean it, and roast it
in the scarred black pan he made
pot roast in all through winter.
He ate a few bites, wrapped it up,
and it sat in the back of the fridge
growing mold for weeks.


Jessica Myers is editor-in-chief of No Teeth: a Digital Poetry Journal