Suburbia

Poetry

Image by Public Co from Pixabay

It’s quiet here.

But

buried beneath the white plastic picket and
swaths of manicured lawns

beneath the ostensibly innocuous
fortresses of hunger
which push out and long forget the sisters of adamah
which suck from the life of faraway things through a straw
and spit filth somewhere out of sight, where we don’t go on vacation