Regeneration Poem by Will Davis

A John Deere tractor on a vacant lot, a sign
something about, it's free from toxic wastes.
what was there before before, the kind

of place that spread out wide and long, of tastes
of wild flowers, of soft sweet grasses, smells
where livestock ambled about, children raced

through the field. The city slowly trailed
along the walkways, subdivided, grew,
wooden frames with porches, drainage impaled

what was meadowland, streets with names that show
plots with families come to work, to do
what they could accomplish here, increase the flow

of happiness wives and children, come through
this adjunct to a metropolis they built,
an almost endless money machine that drew

them there until the fans stopped turning, a tilt
on a rollercoaster gone wild, facts misconstrued,
too much, too long, too loose, the sentiments wilt.

One after the other, vacant spaces accrue,
dandelions slip through the cracks. They plow
along crooked rows. Abandoned, skewed
wood work, swings and ladders, this, the slow
atrophy … all that we see is nailed
no use, it's time, them's that remain can go.

Surrounded by shovels at the doorsteps, assailed,
first the railings, then the windows, laced
along the tract, the remains of a site that failed,

into the dust. The hard wheels roll, they pass
over the ground where the rain fell, the sun shined.
We dream about the days when things were less …

something about, it's free from toxic wastes
a John Deere tractor, on a vacant lot, a sign.

Zev Davis