Awakening unknown fault lines, 
we pump water we made toxic 
back into the earth—hydraulic 
blocks of prehistoric basalt 
kerchunk from one key-holed 
stick point to another. 
 
The old clay and sand, 
loess and fluvium spasm, 
shimmy like Jello; 
Permian shales split. 

Our granite block, brick facade, 
frame and timber, steel truss, 
concrete pier, balustered and 
balustraded buildings, our bridges, 
our buried pipes all click, crack, 
rattle, hum like plucked strings. 
 
We stand, stagger, our cats run 
for cover, dogs rise in alarm, 
all of us on this big 
fracking surprise 
state-fair-midway-ride, 
this free, one-ticket-keeps-
you-breathless, all day, 
all year—forever?— 
adventure.

Bio: Roy Beckemeyer