Monday, November 3, 2008

Elegy for America - Ruth Patrick

Elegy for America

Under God’s own perfect sky
on this mower once fueled with pride, roaring,
raising the smell of spring
I ride three acres of perfect lawn which once
made me king
of this high hill in suburbia
owning
American dreams
of more than we need more than we want
enough to flaunt and more.
Now it is gone.

I am banished.
Factories and franchises fallen to ruin and my
job downsized;
six-figure income --- gone.

My pension won’t go far
in this shattered empire
where energy is a rare and priceless
elixir
for lack of which
my world has died.

But the grass keeps growing;
keeps me mowing.
Maybe I should trade this mower for
a cow
and a plow
and plant tomatoes
sweet corn
and strawberries.

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