Thursday, October 18, 2007

Fertile Ground: Selected Poetry Read

Ruth Ellen Kocher

The projects were a gift to us,
the meek who inherit the earth.
Walls for our roaches. Foundations
for our rats. The green paneling
layered like grass grown
in a country meadow we never
saw. Sometimes, over
the sound of sex above my head,
I could hear a distant highway,
cars cutting through air
as though no boundaries existed
Between there and here.

You must understand this, the hollow
tunnel of sound-less-ness echoed in movement,
the suggestion of space without walls,

a road that went somewhere
in a heaved sigh of relief.

From Cave Canem 2002.

1 comment:

Eesha said...

This is beautiful.