In Ruin
Gravity pulls all that stands into the sink of yesterday’s batture where the green creeps slick and porches lean like Pisa. The spray of feral cats and climate collapse swamp the tetanus playground. There, children wear mudders and dream of freedom while the merry-go-round squeaks and the see-saw splinters. Under the percussion of gunshots and the passing band of deep spring, rust and spent petrodollars pool at the bottom of the slide like antebellum mansions in ruin.
….
The city swallows itself and kills its children as vines climb three feet since breakfast and the park sank an inch overnight.
….
This poem is from the book Witness Before the Fall by Emily Cosper (Finishing Line Press), and can be found at https://finishinglinepress.com/product/witness-before-the-fall-by-emily-cosper/
Emily Cosper lives and writes in New Orleans, a city she has called home for over 30 years. She is a Professor of English and an academic dean at a large community college in the city. Originally from the American West, she hopes someday to split her time between New Orleans and Taos.
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