by Glen Martin Fitch
As if we had been plundered
we went room to room.
"That's gone!"
"Just look at that"
"And there!"
In time we all rebuilt.
Yet we assume disaster
will return,
so we prepare
with batteries and matches
water, gas.
We keep our family photos
by the door or somewhere
near the bins
for paper, glass
or lost amid
the useless crap
we store.
God! avalanche my magazines;
and rain away my relatives;
old clothes flambé;
tornado through commitments;
hurricane me clean;
tsunami all my shit away!
Yet, even as I ponder all at stake,
I sometimes really wish
the earth would quake!
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ABOUT THE POET ~
Glen Fitch is a 16th Century poet lost in the 21st Century. Born near Niagara Falls, educated in the Catskills, thirty years on the Monterey Bay he now lives in Palm Springs. Retail not academics has paid the bills. Someday he will finish Spenser's "The Fairie Queene."
Last updated August 23, 2011