Watering
So it is hot again.
And the dried ground
is cracking.
As if here is where a desert is being
formed.
Maybe in fifteen years
if the clouds go further north.
With the trees shrinking and dying.
No news of rain.
So even the water coming
out the tap and down is hot.
Like it has been dancing
on the pavement
before belching out
before it was tricked and tickled
and squeezed by shaken down and
out.
d. n. simmers is an on line
editor with Fine Lines. He is in will be in Poetry Salzburg Review,
the Storyteller, Iconoclast, Plainsongs, California Quarterly, Poets Touchstone, Bluestem, and Nomad's Choir. He is on line in poetrymag.com, red river review, new american
digital, storyacious, and word press. He is in an newly launched
anthology Royal City Poets ( 4) and was in Van Gogh's Ear, Paris France.
An important witness poem and so glad you shared it here.
ReplyDeleteThe image of "dancing on the pavement...really creative.
Thank you.
d.n.,
ReplyDeleteWow! Your poetry is in so many places. Congrats! And great job with this poem, you did a fine job.
Your friend,
David Fox