Emerging

 

From the sandbox

two girls climb into the apple tree

 

with chocolate around her lips

the eldest one tells a story

 

once there was a monkey

one day he stood up

then his hair fell out

this was the first human

his name was Adam and Eve

 

and then

they had children and they had children and they had children and so,

here we are.

 

the youngest one sits

with rapt attention

pigtails motionless in the tree

 

a crow flies with

green fruit in its beak

and nothing falls from the sky

 

Betsy Wharton

10/22/04

 

 

Last Night

 

It was guns

again. Angry soldiers in the house

brandishing assault

rifles, ordering

"Get out!"

 

I slumber on the satin plane

of this tilted globe

while Iraqi sisters

tremble under the bed,

looking wide-eyed into

the dusty boots of dawn.

   

 

Betsy Wharton

10/04/04

 

 

 

Sentient Creature



In the evening, 

I empty the compost,

tossing away the day’s refuse:

a crust of bread, 

some coffee grounds and brown lettuce.

I take up my pitchfork and watch as

the red worms wriggle in the pile.

I sometimes wonder.



Do they notice my face 

sometimes hardened with anger

my shoulders crouched in fear,

or do I appear like them?

Content to chew 

on a rotting share

of creation. 





Betsy Wharton

10/25/04