Poetry Porch: Poetry


by Marge Piercy

She photographs imaginary landscapes
built as dioramas. In this one, a tree
grows up through a destroyed library,
a hole in the ceiling through which

light and weather enter. The shelves
of books remain but disaster has
struck and no one is present to read
or sit on the broken chairs. For me

this is Detroit, the ruined buildings,
the abandoned public places, but
the ground is fertile. Bushes,
wildflowers, trees push up at once

from houses burnt, collapsed. Lots
called vacant are fecund. People
remaining create, plant and survive.
They are sturdy and determined

as a forest growing through what has
been destroyed, looted, cast aside.
The books remain for anyone
to read and the trees grow tall.

Copyright © 2017 by Marge Piercy.