The concrete dreams
of bindweed & beggar-tick,
burdock & wineberry,
gravid mosquito mothers,
copperheads, a wild rose
equipped with grappling hooks.
The concrete wants to be loved,
not merely walked upon.
It wants to go home with you,
clinging to your pants leg,
or at least take a bite
your skin will remember.
It wasn’t supposed to be this way.
The concrete was our gift
to an unimproved land
where woods & weeds ran riot.
At best, we might condescend
to preserve some open space,
a light-green stripe across the grid.
But the pavement, too,
begins to bulge open.
There are no motels in this vacancy.
The flag of our alienation
goes down to kudzu.
OTHER POSTS IN THE SERIES
- Poem for Display in a City Bus
- Poem for Display in a Subway Car
- Poem for Display at a City Reservoir
- Poem for Display in a Veterans’ Memorial Park
- Poem for Display in a Public Library
- Poem for Display in a Hospital Waiting Room
- Poem for Display in a Municipal Building
- Poem for Display in an Abandoned Factory
- Poem for Display in an Inaccessible Location
- Poem for Display at a Police Checkpoint
- Poem for Display Above the Urinals in a Men’s Restroom
- Poem for Display in a Vacant Lot
- Poem for Display in a Shopping Mall Food Court
- Poem for Display in a Housing Project
Magnificent alliteration! The ghosts of the skalds are behind this one :->
But the pavement, too,
begins to bulge open.
This is fabulous. Really. All the way through.
Yep. I agree. Amazing.
I really enjoyed this. I was discussing John Clare with someone today, and we were wondering how to write poetry that was both about nature and modern. I’ll pass a link to this on to them!
I bet this was fun to write. The cement reminds me of John Gardener’s Grendel.
This is very nice. What everyone said. :-)
Thanks for all the comments. I almost like the damn thing myself now!
i love this, especially the second stanza.
The flag of our alienation goes down to kudzu…that’s great.
Thanks. A little Southern imagery there for you. (I’d forgotten I’d used that “grappling hooks” image prior to today’s poem. Nuts. I hate repeating myself.)