Tonight I’m veering off erotica and posting a poem by my newest favorite poet, Nathan.
When I read this poem I was awed and incredulous. Awed at his talent and incredulous that it feels like he looked into my soul with this one. And isn’t that what poetry is all about? To connect, to share, to enlighten, to protest, to make one think and feel…..

This is a commentary on the “gated community” mentality in today’s America as in “Let’s just lock ourselves behind our privileged brick walls and ignore the plight of the disadvantaged, the poor and the sick.” It is spot on.

*Steps off soapbox*

~~~

Civil Engineering

At night they unroll the subdivision

maps. Every yard is keyed with color

like the countries on a globe. With

precision each tree is noted, every

arterial street is traced. The huge

squares cover great room floors.

Security is controlled. Blinds closed.

Doors are locked and left unanswered.

.

Like strange dancers they crawl on

all fours pointing and muttering.

Stuttering disagreements flare over

what to change and where. Every

night they close cul-de-sacs, switch

mailboxes, rearrange the names of

streets. Milnor becomes Maple, Maple

becomes Tuttle, strategies to befuddle

outsiders, to preserve the sanctity of

community.

.

A few without careers choose to be

daytime volunteers. They watch who

drives through the gates and where they

ride; eye the strange, souls without the

code; and make up games, laughing at

the lost. It’s bad

.

enough, they say, that anyone can

penetrate the neighborhood, a clear and

present danger. Any stranger might

carry bombs, disease, poisonous

thought. Corrode smooth edges of clean

lives and make them rough. Measures

must be taken because gates are not

enough.