PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Where I come from strange children thank God for brownfields
without which there would be no space at all

Once you learn to walk with your eyes cast down and to the right
you will find the trail dug under the bent chainlink fence
Follow me there

Onto some safe place
The tops of basement bomb shelters
lined with pine needles
rusted shut

Behind dark doorways sirens call from the rusted hulls of necessary evil
Follow me there

In the warmer months we could make this our home
Light reflected off shards of glass and the chemical green of crabgrass could be our mattress

Tatters of red cloth hung on brambles
circles of charred earth
strange encryption
the Fae return

This Ravaged Country

Below the tracks trees grow askew,
sickly soft and twisted
from sulfur dioxide and toluene and benzene and lead.
Roots exposed,
becoming unmoored from what was once beautiful,
now ravaged,
straining to break free,
like teeth in an old man’s mouth
or a dying dog’s.

Rheumy eyed
beyond all hope of redemption,
this land is doomed.