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Wednesday, March 13, 2013

Sump Pump

Sump Pump

Of voicelessness and fatigue,
of thee I sing,
too, not only petals or cubed
red gelatin or
alphabet refrigerator magnets,
words from
marks. Of overflowing toilets,
stopped-up
showers, mice safe in a wall
within your
home. That propensity toward
flooding,
fumbling for sump pump and
snow plow and
salt. The bad stuff, we take care
of it, we care
for it. It takes love to unravel
the leathery
welts we head for, unwinding.

4 comments

  1. Interesting form you've presented this poem in; it lends a kind of in-and-out feeling to its reading. Wonderful collection of details, the detritus of life, that beautifully ends up at love.

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  2. Thank you Hannah...only a couple of years ago I learned of sump pumps...happy wednesday to you

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  3. like this one becase my wife and I experinced all this just these last five months

    Gracias Hannah

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  4. Hilarious! Folks rarely equip themselves for the good moments in life...

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