David Reuter
Vibrations on a Man-made Pond
It wasn’t instinct leading them to lie
where steel and strife sliced ragged paths
and made this sunken space.
Their beady eyes scanned structures for
the shelter where they’d drop
their webbed feet underneath
the shimmering surface where they’d rest.
Somebody took this ancient place
and drove it from primeval heights
into this present concrete grave.
They carved this virgin, wild land,
eradicating every crag
where feral life had sprung about.
The sturdy earth shook deep in ways
that tremors don’t begin to try.
They flip and toss their feathered crests
like they’re atop a lake and not
a paltry pool they placed among
created structures, sharp and steep.
Sometimes, the motions that they make
can almost reach the hidden places
lost among the remnants left behind.
