Paul David Adkins

2012/10/27 § Leave a comment

On the theme of Milk


Even from the sidewalk we could glimpse
through tiny basement windows
the glint of water
almost lapping the jambs.

The trash boats lolling
with their rat captains,
tails dipped like pink rudders
into the dead pond.

One day it rained
two inches in an hour.
We heard glass shatter,
looked to see
the hoarder’s cellar
dump from every side

its black ballast
into the yard,
the drive,
the street.

A fleet of empty milk jugs merged
into the river
that was road.

Trash bags swirled
toward the grate.

Mice scrambled
up the peaks
of those tumbling islands.

In the torrent
tomcats hunched
along the bank
to dip their quick paws
into the rush
like bears
to snatch the passing fish.

Author Biography

Raised in South Florida, Paul David Adkins lives in New York. 

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