The Richland Water Treatment Plant

I was 11.

We went on a tour.
Supposed to be educational.
All I remember
is huge cylinders covered
with human waste
rotating before our eyes.

“Don’t touch!”

Our community shit
all mashed together.

The notorious snobbery
of the town’s residents
dissolves in the end.
It all ends up in the same place.

We all end up in the same place.

On the way back to school,
our bus passes the cemetery,
fresh dirt piled on a grave.

© Anne Westlund

Poetry by Anne Westlund The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 654 times
Written on 2010-01-23 at 11:10

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email
dott Print text

It makes one wonder about things like over-qualification and mind set. "Wow! This is a good idea. Let's send the children to a shit factory!" The dark ages are still with us :-)