Brush Creek Flood
by Larry Rochelle
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
Not rated by the Author.
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Brush Creek Flood
strong winds pushed cottonwoods
to their limits, soft branches touched
by strength, busted, broken
by the howling.
creek rises, then speeds over rocks,
campfires from Plaza hoboes
singe the blackened sky
bursts, cinders aflame
down sidewalks, scaring horses
and tipping carriages full
of lovers smooching the evening
away, licking earlobes as
limbs flail and nickel-sized
on Greek statues, shined up
for Easter Sunday and the rabbits,
come out to play for sunshine models in bikinis.
no one hears the rush of water
sidling up to doorways,
swirling down stairs into lush
basements where trousers linger
at the toilets, big meals plunged
and flushed, while cold water oozes
into pants pockets, freeing dollar
bills meant for tips.
stunned Plaza cops dip into rhythm,
chanting numbers, singing to dispatchers
listening into earphones while
their computers hum a song of confusion:
six people washed away,
stuck under bridges, while juicy rats tumble
from hiding places abandoned for safety,
each slimy rodent confused
by waters racing over potholes, and church mice praying
for deliverance, no mean alley cats
waiting, but hell beckoning them
to sing, their meek voices chirping
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|Reviewed by Tinka Boukes
|Most outstanding...I like this one!!
|Reviewed by Karla Dorman, The StormSpinner
A stunning presentation of why we should turn around and not drown. Powerful, powerful words--excellent imagery!
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla. :)
|Reviewed by Tami Ryan
|Great verbiage and, wow, what descriptions! It's good to read you again, Larry.|
|Reviewed by Judy Lloyd (Reader)
|This was interesting Larry very interesting and reminds us all of how fragile life is.|