The Bush Brother
A man was swallowed
by a sinkhole in Florida.
An administrator called it a “chasm”;
a deep fissure which unveils
a difference so profoundly embedded
in the earth that there must be
an offering: concrete and fair manskin,
soil and air, mud and sky.
And above all that, the television
still playing atop a dresser,
sliding like effortless pennies
into a deep denim pocket
of crust, mantle, core.
What that television hit
was Jeremy Bush’s brother,
perhaps still listening for
the next plot point or unbearable sound.
Don’t we all sleep with actors
telling us how to dream up
the drama of our lives?
But then there’s the real evolution
of land, pushing and pulling
that dream into a state of collapse.
The report stated that the house
was the same blue color as the sky.
A blue so muted that each crack
blends into that precarious hush.