Guinotte Wise

Time Capsule

I buried a can when I was twelve

That was seventy years ago

some of the contents:

a shotgun shell

an indian head penny

a Lone Ranger secret compartment ring

some .22 shells

an Orphan Annie decoder

a metal flying fortress plane

a G-man badge

an arrowhead

some wheat pennies

a worn dime

a small rubber car

a bicycle bell

my best shooter marble, orange, yellow and red

dime-sized tin itching powder, empty


1015 Manheim Rd.

Ten paces from the wrenhouse on a pole

toward the little fish pond

four paces toward Mr. Cato’s house

none of which are there anymore.


Good luck.

Epsom Salts and Filling Churches

Well, Tim, the horses are all gone now

so no more big vet bills. No having to share the

pain of an abscessed hoof, or trying to 

keep a horse standing in a bucket of warm water

and Epsom salts. But no more warm hellos

in the form of low throttles from a friend

who wants a knuckle rub on his/her back.

No more vet trips and all those damned shots

and worming and teeth floats.



No more worries how they’re doing in a storm.

Or conniptions trying to get rid of a horsefly.


You left too soon for us but you sure did fill

that big Catholic church. You missed 

covid. Or it missed you. But not like your

friends miss you.


The gates stand open. They still hay here.

I see an EAT BEEF plate on Nichols’ truck

and it reminds me of you.


I sold that old Billy Cook saddle. I kept the

saddle I used since the sixties. Sixty years ago.

And it was old then.


I wasn’t.


Might try some Epsom salts myself.

Long hot bath. Sounds good.

Read a book.

Guinotte Wise writes and welds steel sculpture on a farm in Resume Speed, Kansas. His short story collection (Night Train, Cold Beer) won publication by a university press and enough money to fix the soffits. Six more books since. A five-time Pushcart nominee, his fiction, essays and poetry have been published in numerous literary journals including Atticus, The MacGuffin, Southern Humanities Review, Rattle and The American Journal of Poetry. His wife has an honest job in the city and drives 100 miles a day to keep it  (until shelter-in-place order).  Some work is at http://www.wisesculpture.com.