By Ellen Story
Yes, I worry everyday about the sinkhole
in my yard’s front temporal lobe.
Aside this cavity that borders
a meadow adjusting its own weight
is a wild cherry tree, sentry yet humble.
It’s roots bolster a tombstone-like knoll.
Deformity of beauty
I sense doom beneath the pit’s green mask.
It may expand west, recede south by
the size of a deer’s hoof per year,
but I won’t be fooled. Even minor changes
wink. Could be quicksand beneath.
Approach the pit. Feel stiff, testy
like a fawn alone and hope
I won’t be pulled asunder.
Step in with boots, squish an inch or two
step backwards and wonder should I assess
my home’s foundation. Does the house sink,
slide forward? I do know I’ve catered
this doomsday banquet long enough. Already
I commune within a spiritual black hole.
Please don’t tell me it’s all in my head
Ellen Martin Story is a maturing poet who is a member of the Cleaveland House Poets and MV Poetry Readers. Her work has appeared in the Martha’s Vineyard Times Poet’s Corner and within “In the Company of Poets,” Cleaveland House Poets Anthology, 2021. She is retired from an off-Island career as a human resources administrator and lives with her husband in Oak Bluffs.
Poets with a connection to Martha’s Vineyard are encouraged to submit poems to Laura Roosevelt at email@example.com.