Just as, After a Point, Job Cried Out

I would have done the same

Just as, After a Point, Job Cried Out

to winter’s switchblade and ­brass knuckles
 
so that when the warm rain came, the soil said, Go on,
there's no room for you now. Let the backyards
 
pool up, and the river pitch to the bridges, dragging
the bridges down. Now the billboards will become great
 
silent rafts so anyone can climb on them and look out,
saying, I would have done the same.
 
When the water covered the tree trunks and crept up,
the ground shrugged. See, it said. Now,
 
weather, do you understand? Soon,
there will be no resting place.
 
K. A. Hays

BAP 2011

 

 

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Poem ©2010 K. A. Hays, all rights reserved. Used by permission of the author and publisher Carnegie Mellon University Press. Film ©2012 Motionpoems, Inc., all rights reserved.

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