Drowned Town

Drowned Town short poem

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Playing at frogmen Frank and I take
Goggles to the lakes a bit west
Of his old stomping grounds, his soul
Still not easy with Arkansas

Pontoon boats are easy to rent, easy
To drive, bare-chested and basted
With tanning butter drinking brands
Of beer that have been dead thirty years

Pontoon boats are easy to still in deep
Water, we back and hold lower ourselves
Into dammed locales that have never known
Monsters greater than human beings

We spy on flooded towns, Woodville OK
Bluffton TX, most of the structures
Eroded like dustbowl dreams but some
Foundations and gravestones still standing

‘You think them people wanted to be forced
Off their land,’ Frank asks after slinging his
Head up out of the algal water, slashing the dry
Pontoon with a pointillist picture that fades

Eaten this time by the sun instead of the jaws
Of the American Southwest. ‘There’s ghosts
Down there, pecan trees and unsettled dead
Choking on the runoff and unable to die again.’

We’re like a speedbump in Lake Buchanan
Rich toys break around us, make a sport
Approaching close then veering if in screams
Briefly incandescent spume that vanishes

Into the somber surface of the manufactured lake.
‘And the spirit of the lake itself, so American,’
Franks says shaking like a dog on deck, ‘Forced
To kill those dreams, forced to eat when it isn’t hungry.’

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GlenDodge

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a poet from Seattle Washington USA. His poetry has appeared in print in publications such as Bellowing Ark, Point Nopoint, and most recently in Contraposition magazine. When not writing poetry he is a Human Resources professional, a repentant glutton, and a novelist specializing in the weird-fiction genre.
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