Monday morning brought camouflaged men
to his door, stating he should make sure the tank is full, and
-don't forget your medication and a change of clothes-
but forgot to ask if he had anywhere to go.
Door to door the troops moved onward
the roar of military trucks battling with the music
played over loudspeakers to the weary
dike builders on the banks of the Assiniboine .
And the rain came down with no sign of ceasing
as the river snaked its way through southern cities
and what used to be shades of green and gold
mosaic patches on the Manitoba prairies.
3 comments:
Great first stanza. Clean poem. Feel that the second and third stanza could have a bit more punch somehow. Either image-wise or inserted narrative or...
Perhaps a link between hard work of sandbagging and homesteaders. Or commentary on farming or the rain. Maybe the he in the first stanza comes back in the third. Forgive me, I'm wanting a bit more narrative - not sure that's where you're going. Maybe put pressure on the word snaking? For those of us who haven't seen the floods I want more details.
It took me a couple of readings to realize what this was about, since I'm not caught up in it. Thought it was some scary WWII scene, a piece of MB history I didn't know about! Interesting!
There's interesting word juxtopositions and a lot to build from here, but might want to add just a little something at the beginning to set the scene? Or even swap the stanzas and start with the rain and end with nowhere to go...
Just a thought...
Great comments, and thank you! They're helpful, as I am having trouble sorting through these vignettes I find myself inadvertently putting together about the flood here in MB.
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