A Sky So Heavy It Slows Me Down
Pallets outside the factory are stacked careful as china in a cabinet.
Gulls answer the horn blow and monotone instructions from the
assembly line. The rails won't get shook from the clanging engine
but I will every time. Slick grass. Breeze at my back. I almost
feel centered. Between the language of lawn mowers and wool
dyers. Between the farmer's market and the skate park. Benches
and the people missing from them when the market sets up shop.
Generations of land and the colonists who zoned it. Metal and
momentum. Crosswalks and graves. This wind is in my way
and I still don't trust that rolling sky or the mouths it spits into.
Who do the witches burn around here and how can I help?
"The wind is in my way and I still don't trust that rolling sky or the mouths it spits into." That line. Well done.
ReplyDeleteMakes me think, the land/environment doesn't trust us either, and it can throw us very far, which is often does. Or it can bury us or put us underwater. Which it often does. Will probably continue to.
This poem, to me, reads like a commentary on pollution and climate change. It does an excellent job showing how far back pollution and climate change goes, where it started and where we are culpable. That last line especially rocks. Thank you for this.
Thanks, Devon!!
Deleteinteresting ending with a question...
ReplyDelete