Lost Ditch
On our old road, for years, the ditches
cut their little pleasure paths,
and we built around them
as they followed the sweeps and pulls of land
into the bottoms and ravines
that fed the rain into limestone.
A conduit—a culvert—
a dark polypropylene creek
collects all it can carry unseen, between
the rows and roads we live on.
It leaves—
after it’s done its damage—doesn’t stagnate,
drops through rock to the Rockcastle,
into chambers never to be seen.
It cuts under everything
til the water resurfaces a county over–
renamed, gushes forth carrying minerals.
Lost ditch, leached from every secret thing
it has passed through.
8 thoughts on "Lost Ditch"
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Wow, talk about making the ordinary subject matter for poetry. Well done, Shaun. Especially fond of “a dark polypropylene creek” — sounds so wrong that we’ve created such a thing.
Shaun, I love how you draw a scene…”cut their little pleasure paths,”
Wow…”Lost ditch, leached from every secret thing/it has passed through.”
Shaun, growing up in the Big Sandy Valley, I can relate to “the ditches cut their little pleasure paths.” Very vivid!
Interesting, Shaun. I find myself wondering about the metaphorical aspect of this poem—or is this one of those cases where a cigar is just a cigar?
Through rock to the Rockcastle – this part feels like a hinge for the poem. I like it a lot
Yes water…….
it cuts under everything!!
I like the darkness, the unseen and the secret things in this poem.
I love your ode to lost ditches! When I lived in the country, the ditches along our dirt road surprised us with chicory beauty in summer – our little “pleasure paths,” I swear you can write a poem about anything and have it be beautiful!