Death by a Thousand Cuts

Once a stately country home, at ease behind a lengthy
Hedge, a circle drive of hand-laid bricks before a door
Of leaded glass, a columned porch, a pool in back,
Beyond, below, a verdant valley, sibling of the great
Plantations scattered all around the South, it's now
A sad anachronism, separated only by what once was
Just a country road from metastatic sprawl. The tree
Farm and the deer are gone, replaced by shabby
Burghers' houses, trampolines and yapping dogs.
The bluff above the lovely valley lost its trees
And character to trucks and tons of highway waste.
The next-door neighbor filled what was a fine and wild,
Steep ravine with shit, and built himself a lawn,
And now he wants to sell the land. A Wall Street
Rapist, without shame, he's asking far more than it's
Worth. The wife says, “Buy it; save our view,”
But I don't want to waste our money. Soon enough,
Those fields below will lose their charm. The profiteers
Will bulldoze corn and soybean plants. They'll raise
A sign and survey lots, and pave the roads and cul-de-sacs
Which will enrich them, first and foremost, and extend
The sprawl.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 41 times
Written on 2020-09-25 at 01:10

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