___

     Water-Water Everywhere But
 
Flailing at Texas, flinging more blue-faced,
breath-holding fits down in Louisiana.
Leaving Vegas thigh-high,  Lake Erie
in danger of going over.  South Asia’s
teeth float, and southeastern Europe’s.
In Ghana, rain torrents.  Iron curtains
separate but do not lift.  Rain pounds,
rain whines, rain sulks, rain spits.  Mud-
stuck and choking on kudzu-reminding
weeds, farmers go in to hunker without
power and red-ink their losses on damp-
seeming paper.  Bridges haven’t succumbed
may yet.  Roads, dikes, dams, pet
projects and projectors have given up
the ghost or are threatening same.  Yet
the U.S.’s Carolinas, dust and rock-hard
clay moonscape.  Mars is starting to look
great.   Heat saps breath; fear of goop
spewing from a turned on tap steals
the rest.  By the toad-textured dirt
that was once a creek, deer tear
at roots drought hasn’t gotten around to
murdering.  Big almond eyes too dry to
startle.  Hair and skin, like mine, crawl,
I feel, with static.  Snap at each other
over nothing.  Pretend showers caress
with long, cool fingers.  Dream grass
stays stays green and trees get to keep
their leaves until fall.  A brook makes
up limericks, it is so happy with itself.  
Tadpoles learn to swim like Esther
Williams.  Water smells like itself – fish
and all.  Thunder that is in the habit
of rumbling around four means clouds
are going to let go of hoarded treasure.

Wake up!  Bushes are sending spindles
to claw blood from the sky.  Soil’s crazed;
moles set up new picnic sites.  So it will be
when we drink and dry our oceans, rivers,
and lakes.  When the lack of ozone
encourages the sun to evaporate the last
stream and fall?   Earth shrivels, and I.  
Look for a wraith wearing a sign
with a dry-marked Hell.