The Rusted Wheelbarrow

Dear Mr. Williams:

Ever since I first heard your poem, I was always struck with how un-useful your dependable wheelbarrow was. Although your poem isn’t very long and it’s rather hard to tell exactly what image you had in your mind, due to the stark contrast of the red against the white chickens, I’ve come to the conclusion that your wheelbarrow has an untarnished coat of paint. If you had ever chanced upon an encounter with a wheelbarrow that’s been used, you would know that the brilliant red of newness quickly dims to a more muted and earth-tone red.

Because of your oversight, I took the liberty of rewriting your poem so it conforms to my standards. I hope you’re not offended. If you are, however, please roll over in your grave three times and hit your head against the coffin wall three times more.

The Rusted Wheelbarrow

A Response and Parody by Mindy Messenger

nothing depends

upon

a red wheel

barrow

rusted from rain

water

beside the black

roadside