A sinkhole wants to claim my home,
thus now I need a strategy.
To be one with the Earth is good
but this falls short of decency.
So slow and steady it appeared,
a void below the silt and clay.
When thus a piece of footer fell,
I knew that it was not okay.
It’s like the land was full of want
and put a lien upon my place.
The whole of fall in cavern keep
displays a measure of disgrace.
A teetering on precipice,
the base of Mother Earth unsound.
The maw in appetite abides,
intent to take me underground.
I scanned the options in my mind,
of what to do to keep from sink.
On solid rock one stands all right,
yet shudders when upon the brink.
(The void of dark, capacious pit,
this hole agape to eat abode.
Down syndrome applied to terrain—
designs on house, driveway and road.)
I needed force to fight the foe,
some proper props for full support.
I needed anti-gravity,
but that was banned from cosmic court.
I-beams I gain to bridge the maw;
the strength of steel so’s to prevail.
Still like a train on trestle high,
I track the chasm as I rail.
Writer’s Cramp Winner