To My Brother-in-law Digging Up The Old Cesspool in the Front Yard with the Loud Machine


* ca.2014

To My Brother-in-law Digging Up The Old Cesspool

in the Front Yard with the Loud Machine

 

You can’t hear me screaming

your name because

you won’t look up.

Your daughter and I

are up to our ankles in feces.

We’ve rolled up our pants and shirtsleeves

and are wading through the muck with a mop

a bucket, and

half a dozen bath towels.

 

Did I mention that this is Mom’s house?

 

The bleeping toilet

shows no signs

of stopping.

My sisters,

one of whom happens to be your wife,

are aghast but unwilling to assist

in the cleanup.

Your Daughter and I are trying not to inhale.

The crapper has been vomiting for

the last fifteen minutes.

The bathroom floor is a wasteland.

The shit is threatening to flood the Kitchen.

We have managed to damn up the doorway

but it is rising rapidly.

 

I ‘ve called Jesus, God, Mohammad, and the Dalai Lama.

They are not answering.

I think they are playing golf at Mar A Lago.

Mom, your daughter, and I have formed a bucket brigade.

We got hungry feeding the garden so

we’ve ordered Pizza.

I’ve lost feeling in my toes.

The five of us were going to play Crazy Hat Bingo.

I made a hat.

But I’ve stopped believing in

karma, miracles

and the price of tea in China.

 

©Cornelia Connie DeDona 3-22-18

 

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