zumpoems

Agamemnon Never Had It So Good

The creeping crabgrass sprouts…
And in a malaise of malcontent challenges the
        wafting, drafting hydrocarbons.
        A lawn of moldering green cadavers.
Mercury, mercury, everywhere, and not a drop
        to drink.
The salmon croaks. the sardine croaks, the crimson
        crawdad croaks, even the warted frog croaks.
But do crooks croak? Nay!
O, justice, thou art not blind —
         a bit deaf maybe — but not blind!
All that is left are saltines and brushed suede.
Thus we reach Armageddon.

—Zumwalt (late 1970s?)