Tonight I’m veering off erotica and posting a poem by my newest favorite poet, Nathan.
When I read this poem I was awed and incredulous. Awed at his talent and incredulous that it feels like he looked into my soul with this one. And isn’t that what poetry is all about? To connect, to share, to enlighten, to protest, to make one think and feel…..
This is a commentary on the “gated community” mentality in today’s America as in “Let’s just lock ourselves behind our privileged brick walls and ignore the plight of the disadvantaged, the poor and the sick.” It is spot on.
*Steps off soapbox*
~~~
Civil Engineering
At night they unroll the subdivision
maps. Every yard is keyed with color
like the countries on a globe. With
precision each tree is noted, every
arterial street is traced. The huge
squares cover great room floors.
Security is controlled. Blinds closed.
Doors are locked and left unanswered.
.
Like strange dancers they crawl on
all fours pointing and muttering.
Stuttering disagreements flare over
what to change and where. Every
night they close cul-de-sacs, switch
mailboxes, rearrange the names of
streets. Milnor becomes Maple, Maple
becomes Tuttle, strategies to befuddle
outsiders, to preserve the sanctity of
community.
.
A few without careers choose to be
daytime volunteers. They watch who
drives through the gates and where they
ride; eye the strange, souls without the
code; and make up games, laughing at
the lost. It’s bad
.
enough, they say, that anyone can
penetrate the neighborhood, a clear and
present danger. Any stranger might
carry bombs, disease, poisonous
thought. Corrode smooth edges of clean
lives and make them rough. Measures
must be taken because gates are not
enough.
