Aloud

I was raised in their back yards.
Dad jumped over tiny pines...

They've grown
to top
the two stories by now.

Across the street they cut down
more trees to build
more low cost housing.

Concrete upon concrete.
It will take them years to arrive.

I am unsure
of this transition.

I am again
in the city.
In ruined cabs,
in ten dollar trains.
in a grid planned
by mans
interpretation
of god .

I was born in the back woods.
The daughter
of a women without.

She barely existed
and I exist,
barely.

I feel separate, as it is true that I am.
I feel useless, as it is true that I am.

I come to meaning only when presented a task
A role to fill.
A mother.
A wife.
A lover.
A child even.