Peter Chapman Poetry


it hasn't been so bad i guess,
just a lot of rain coming down,
curtains of theatrical rain


furry bones
find no rest in the schedule of rain,
but it hasn't been so bad, bones washing
free, the slurry of earth and everything else,
swept like sailors
unmoored, held to nothing, unrecalled
in the new exposure

not too bad in the fields, the fertilizers flowing
to the algaed bay, not that bad
politicos say (the dome of ooze never swoled so big,
killing seagrass and fish and crabs scratching up the docks for breath)
this death
but not too bad, can you sing it?

not that bad
awful bad,
not so awful bad

everywhere the twitchy loaves of ducks
quack, paddling around mailboxes,
having no trouble avoiding pets, flapping up
coming down
to a mocking skid on the rising sound

not too bad or sad
we guess
it could be more or less

the thing to worry most about,
past the wet, the doubt
is how we'll know we've had enough

lacking clouds, lacking breath