Moving From Farm to City

Moving from Farm to City


Then,
I was a forest, a pond,
An indigo bunting.

Then,
Pines put their arms around me,
I put my ear to red ground,
Heard my name.

Now,
I'm scattered glass, bent beer cans,
Blood on bricks.
Spit on the sidewalk.

I put my ear
To the curbstone,
Hear insults.


Duane Locke

Posted over on Ken Again