When they created the crater in the backyard – Mom and Dad
went
Inside – safely put away until the job was done, but I was
ten.
Barefoot, I climbed to the edge of the stench-abyss and spied
On the methane men.
The first dirt clod crumbled too quickly in my hands, but
the second one
Taken from yesterday’s stash on the putrid precipice, found
its target.
PVC pipe is no match for my maneuverability and finesse.
They say the sewage smell will vanish once they finish the
tank connection –
Whatever that means.
The stinky men evacuate our driveway in their mucky trucks,
Leaving me the keeper of all earthen bombs.
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