Thursday, October 1, 2009

For a Departed Swimming Pool

The man we hired to fill the old pool
Got the backhoe through the fence, but
To get his dump truck into the yard
Had to uproot a burning bush
Which proved to have a nest of bumble bees
In its roots

And now they swarm there
Awaiting Diaspora from the from the only home
They’ve ever known
A world of shade and green
Become a wasteland of mud and straw

Milling about not enraged but hapless
Longing for the promised land
Waiting for their Moses
To lead them across the dirt filled pool
Away from pharaoh and his backhoe

But until they depart
We must go quietly
And put on our shoes
As though crossing holy ground

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