the shape of the land has been so distorted
it's hard to distinguish, but I look:
imagine the land sloping down to
the river; ignore the levee.
imagine Kings Brook not banked
in concrete, but running into the river
imagine this field not a dump
for waste from the Tile plant
imagine it lower and look for the
significant swell of an earthen mound
aligned to center on the dip in
the two hills across the river
look for the top of an ancient mound
covered by milkweed pods, ryegrass,
queen Anne's lace, burdock, elderberry
shrubs, goldenrod, sweet clover
imagine that once it rose above
the flat land along the river bank
imagine we don't recognize
the holy unless experts tell us
imagine we have heaped trash
on our past, bulldozed our inheritance
imagine we are corporate savages
no love but for money, expediency
imagine we have no reverence,
no myth, our cathedrals corporate towers
like the land we are so distorted
we are hard to distinguish
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