Waterclock Poem by MARINA GIPPS

It rained and rained.
More rain, we mumbled
with withered breaths.

We questioned
our fancy black
limousines for that
day of the casket, voices
high, then low as she
descended...

Watched from above,
the trees drooped
as earthworms were fed
the aqua of sky.

And so we slithered
to the spot near
the side of the road where
we believed she could never be
leveled...

Deeper
into the silence,
this taking into
streams where
bodies swam
carefully separated
by real estate codes.