Saturday, April 21, 2012

a pitiful poem

The flaggers hold
Their signs
Stop and
Slow

The men's eyes follow the path of the cars
Creeping around them.

Sometimes they reach
Out their arms and
Pump the air--
Slow down, Slow down.

The digger pulls up big handfuls
Of earth and concrete
Macadam (didn't my second grade teacher call it that?)

But why are they working?
Why
Do the flaggers hold signs?
Why
Does the digger dig?
Why
Do the cars drive by?

Don't they know?
My daddy died.

The world should stop.
It all should pause.

My daddy died.

My daddy died.

2 comments:

Martha Spong said...

Hugs to you my friend.

Mary Beth said...

(o)