Hel Or High Water
That’s what the Ground hogs whistle:
‘hell or high water’
then they put on their old-timey spectacles
and the glasses slip
to the end of their stubby snouts.
The squirrels climb too high
for the lower depths of Hades to reach,
but the hawks are not religious.
Daddy bought the farm
his old lady, the unmarried one,
died also
tugging at his shirt tails.
The waters receded some,
hell closed its barroom doors
to all the better critters.
Only the bottom feeders
were allowed in;
not the whales
they had outgrown heaven
and hell,
the high waters kept them safe
until the oily whalers
came back
to reclaim the low ground.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2022
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment