Poetry

Hometown Plagues

Do you remember that summer when the creek turned to blood,
and the frogs washed up and crowded the porches,
and my sister got head lice (and we had to throw plastic on the chairs),
and the flies filled the kitchen like smoke,
and all the cows happily turned over and died,
and all our friends broke out in pimples,
and we hurled rocks at the sports cars from the overpass,
and the cicadas crawled out of the ground like Lazarus,
and we slept all day and never saw the sun,
and your older brother died,
and the police chased us over the bridge where they nearly fell off and drowned,
and we knew we had to leave?