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
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
and the price of tea in China.
©Cornelia Connie DeDona 3-22-18