The search by Barbara Marsh

 

I questioned everything alive –

beetles, daddy longleg spiders,

the crayfish at the bottom of the yard

in Mr Sampson’s pond, the pond

that appeared and disappeared

with the rain and provided frogspawn

for my bucket. I kept it in the garage,

watching as it became small-tailed beings,

before the squatter bodies, their struggles

to evolve and survive without being

eaten by their own kind. The harm

lay in forgetfulness and I don’t remember

that they died; I can’t recall what I did

with them. Perhaps I put them back

in the pond, or took them to school,

poor little black dots of anxiety,

their only world red plastic, seconds wide.

 

From To The Boneyard

1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Barbara Marsh
    Apr 18, 2014 @ 21:34:10

    Thanks so much for including this in your blog! What a treat – I’m so glad you like it.

    Like

    Reply

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