Forty Four Gallon Drum
by Virginia Lowe
Clang!
The cricket ball
hits the make-shift wicket
The shout arises
Out!
The kids leap about
except the batsman
who hands on the bat
to the next street kid
female this time
Blackberry canes
pour over the edge
The juicy purple fruit
within reach
without prickles
Post cards and fliers
junk mail and love letters
magazines and bills
all drop in
Even an isolated
farm in the country
can’t escape
the tyranny of
the mail
In times past
forty-four gallon drums
rusted
in continuing utility
* Submitted in response to Words+Pictures #4
TIME
