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by Jim Moore

Once the water receded--its shallow pools drained
And temporary islands dry,
There was only the thought of rescue--—
For the soap dispenser high on the knoll
Washed clean of the hands it once soaped with,
The pull-tab can and the blue bee's wax
Container that found their way to shore,

We walk among them, calling out the different names,
Filling our bags with the survivors as we go.


Posted on 08/11/2007
Copyright © 2021 Jim Moore

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Elizabeth Jill on 08/13/07 at 03:26 PM

This is an honest envelope poem. The matter-of-fact way you deliver it gives it all-the-more power. I couldn't not contemplate it. Beautiful Stark Vivid

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