ACCOUNT OF MY DAYS
Sequence: 7
THE DROUGHT
if the drought means anything we haven't been told
as a matter of course it seizes our eyes for the water they carry
unrecognized by all but a few its mother has set out looking for it
she takes no food and rests only when exhausted
the footprints are everywhere the trail is confused
when she asks she is mocked or given useless sympathy
useless because it contains no information other than itself
if she hums as she searches her feet tire less quickly
and the marks on her face stay hidden from those she mistrusts
when they come out the marks reveal a buried electricity
of which we must be aware and shun as a danger
the long search has made her ruthless and severe
her face is printed in every newspaper as one of the ten least-wanted
she believes that somewhere past the dead corn and weak flowers
her child has fallen in with dry companions and forgotten his home
if only someone would remind him with a few shreds of wallpaper
or the smell of the furniture he would be called to his senses
and leave his wandering that only brings sorrow and a few souvenirs
too delicate for the rough life of no shelving or strongboxes