The Cudgel 

It began as a limb

Hard thick substantial 

An ancient Hawthorne 

Gnarled and twisted

Standing waist high

The carved end braided

Leather wrapped handle

Well oiled by gripping

Thonged to his wrist

Preventing an errant swing

From having it fly away

Resting in the corner

Each night with him each day

A constant companion

Surfaced in sinuous lines

Of rolling ridges from

Constant use

Today employed 

With tradesman’s precision 

Repetitively swung

pasionlessly

To beat the woman 

to death for stealing

From the pantry

For she was starving