Sturve Slough
fence posts list to rot,
chewed by pond scum,
a reminder of the callous, needy farmers
who first parceled the slough.
now it can relax,
perimetered by a shield of official gravel.
adored, no less, by a boxy plaza
with a Holiday Inn that hugs it
like a giant pink cheek.
before the farmers,
the slough was sacred,
an oasis of food, water, and animal visions.
voices of ancestry.
today, it is merely primordial.
a curio for the tourists, and the sparkles
that scamper over its oozy flesh.
when the moon thrives high,
a babble of frogs blurt tepid moans.
ducks bob and flip,
silent, busy phantoms, nothing more,
to gorge on the croaking fruit
in the onyx water.
======================
Watsonville, CA
2002
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