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Espaliered on a Wailing Wall

Text of Poem

Farmland lacks immunity to the
toxin spread by the creeping edges
of the town. A fungus of junkyards,
beer joints, car washes, food stands,
neon flashes. A four-lane highway
spreads the contagion and no matter
how fast I run, my feet move
too slowly to rescue me from the
corrupt breath of car and truck exhaust.
In this hamburger world decorated
with plastic roses I dream of
clean clear streams and wooded hills,
and secret parks of nature where
a man could stand alone. I look
at a leaf, plastered to my driveway,
and see the perfect veins, the
serrated edges, proof of a pattern
shaped by an order of things with
no action by the city council.
I look at myself, honed by the
abrasive facts of progress instead
of growing out of my beginning
into the man I hoped for.

First Line
Farmland lacks immunity to the
Original Pub Location
Original Publication Date
1980
Original Citation
Wascana Review 15.1 (Spring 1980) 33.
Complete Poems
401
Word Count
142
Poetic Form
open
Themes
Twitter Quote
A fungus of junkyards, / beer joints, car washes, food stands, / neon flashes.