River/rats of the Susquehanna
for River Rats
who remember
Agnes, Ida
was just another storm.
for those who knock/rocks who
treasurehunt in the after/math who
slept w their waders on for a week when
there was 3 feet of water in the house,
the storm was just
another woman—a plastic
bottle, a tire, a Hellgrammite happening.
it’s the same
as a snow day:
you go out & get your milk, eggs,
& boulders bouncing off the bedrock
river/bed. you donate
these moments to the Humane
Society or the homeless
shelter, dog food in one hand &
a case of Coors in the other.
easy as a one-snip symmetrical
five-pointed star easy
as heritage. In 1972,
Tropical Storm Agnes almost
put the entire Wyoming Valley
under/water.
a Southern home
security system: a pair
of men’s work boots
on the porch
things rattle in my house
some/times & shadows tumble
down the walls
two effective & non/poisonous way
to stop moles & voles from digging
tunnels: Milky Spore for
Japanese beetle grubs
& a 22LR.
when the power goes
out, we make a little version
of our life in the living
room: drip/ping/fau/cets/fi/re/
place/flash/light/sun. we wait
in the stink of the oil
lamp
spaghetti dinner disaster
relief all church basements smell
about the same: tongue/click
ing coffee & chicory: Luzianne
Premium Blend Medium Dark
Roast C&C: the shittiest cup
of Maryland coffee at St. John’s
Lutheran Church.
the water is rumbling,
it moves around
in the sinks & toilets, &
there is some/thing/im/plant/ed in the wall:
two pairs of smoke contrails over
Baltimore County make
a chess board make man
euvers make wheat straw for
sale in Southern York County
the goldfish have gotten too big
for their tank & they have started to love
us. we are trying to kill them
in a way that will not
make us feel
too guilty.
Pentagonal: hi-
def programming boxes speak up
now to stop statewide
Sunday hunting
every/thing/we/own
has its own box. I rub
the green velvet of my ros/ary
against my cheek. this is some/thing
I know in/side my body. my hands
are getting so heavy so turquoise so
tacky every stone I throw
lands a stone’s throw
a/way from home.
Abigail Swoboda
Abigail Swoboda is a poet and pre-k teacher who lives in West Philly.