Sunday, September 7, 2008

A New Poem for Everyone's Neighborhood

Foreclosure

Next door is the property
of pests. It used to be
a family’s we never met
but waved at. Nobody’s home

but rats, black widows,
brown recluses, poisonous plants,
an unmown lawn of allergens,
irritants to skin. We call

the bank, the city, the county.
No luck reaching anybody.

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