For the Cliff that Is Leaving Us
It's not shearing off or making
a swan dive. It's simply slumping
down like collateral damage
in a spaghetti western, a rancher
caught up in the wrong poker game.
Too late for the prayer circle,
bamboo planting, five-ton rock.
Cliff dwellers wear tunics of yellow
caution tape and wave like drowning
men. Aww. That's a good look for
you. Ready the dinghies. Right
the kayaks. Get some pool
floaties together for the army
corps of engineers.
Pleiades Summer 2014
Copyright © 2014 by Amy Sparks
All rights reserved.
Reproduced by Poetry Daily with permission