A drainage ditch that land was filled
And then again with leaching spills
Old extremes of unction weep
Blackened liners underneath
Flopping carp hold court in mud
While glossy ibis splay their feet
A big box store comes hulking next
To briny shrimp in tidal reams
Flipping figures on my oar
Cutting through the brackish kill
Which empties out appointed time
Tom McGlynn
copyright 2013
Tom McGlynn
copyright 2013
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