Friday, April 22, 2005

Poem: Slough

The foundations under the house
are three feet tall.

A cobbled path
leads into a chain link fence,
crawling with blackberry vines.

I built a swing set there
and I checked the bolts,
every weekend,
after I mowed the lawn,

But rust now holds
hollow metal in place.

The vacant lot next door;
The lone tree cut down,
replaced with asphalt
and aluminum siding.

When the rain pounds down,
they pump a million gallons a day
out of here.

If the dikes ever break,
it will all be washed away,
taken back by a jealous river.

It has happened before.

For now the waters
remain channeled,
and the gouged out slough,
still, unmoving;
ripens- ferments under
the new summer's sun.

I drive through there now.
I used to live there.

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