{"id":62530,"date":"2020-06-27T10:49:03","date_gmt":"2020-06-27T14:49:03","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/?p=62530"},"modified":"2020-06-27T10:49:03","modified_gmt":"2020-06-27T14:49:03","slug":"2020-poetry-marathon-hour-2-cleaning-a-filthy-pool","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/2020\/06\/2020-poetry-marathon-hour-2-cleaning-a-filthy-pool\/","title":{"rendered":"2020 Poetry Marathon Hour 2 &#8211; Cleaning a Filthy Pool"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>The pump lets out a diesel roar<br \/>\nAn industrial lion, trumpet of civilization&#8217;s return<br \/>\nThe surface shudders as sublayers are drawn<br \/>\nand spilled on a distant patch of grass scrub.<\/p>\n<p>Frogs squirm, algae drifts, turtles surface nervously<br \/>\nas 3 years of pollen, leaves, and life is exiled from the bottom up.<br \/>\nSomewhere below a mechanical Carybdis strikes fight or flight fear<br \/>\ninto the tiny world of muck and water, dirt and larvae.<\/p>\n<p>Power washers fire up, unleashing tight spiral sprays<br \/>\nEager puppies joining their voices to the great howl of the pump.<br \/>\nInch by inch they wash away the years of neglect:<br \/>\nAlgae green turns to scale white turns to unreal blue.<\/p>\n<p>Thousands of gallons make a one-day-only stream<br \/>\nAs a bottom unseen since diaper-days turned to preschool<br \/>\nBecomes visible once more, with four turtles, countless leaves,<br \/>\nand a lonely, long-forgotten, torpedo-toy resolving; images from wet static.<\/p>\n<p>A few hours (thousands of gallons), and the pump goes silent.<br \/>\nThe power washers hiss at the exposed floor, loosening scale;<br \/>\nIt flows deep, clean and bright as beach sand on a fast current.<br \/>\nA shop vac captures the last of it, along with pollywog holdouts.<\/p>\n<p>A pair of hoses refill the artificial pond, no longer a habitat,<br \/>\nAs we drive with a carload of shelled refugees.<br \/>\nOne by one, my children set down the four pool turtles<br \/>\nAnd wave as they vanish into the reassuring muck.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>The pump lets out a diesel roar An industrial lion, trumpet of civilization&#8217;s return The surface shudders as sublayers are drawn and spilled on a distant patch of grass scrub. Frogs squirm, algae drifts, turtles surface nervously as 3 years of pollen, leaves, and life&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1262,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[11],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-62530","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-half-marathon-poem"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/62530","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1262"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=62530"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/62530\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":63283,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/62530\/revisions\/63283"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=62530"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=62530"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=62530"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}