Tuesday, July 29, 2008

Kneeling at the pipes: a poem by Marge Piercy (dedicated to Amy W. and her roommates)

Princely cockroach, inheritor,
I used to stain the kitchen wall with your brothers,
flood you right down the basin.
I squashed you underfoot, making faces.
I repent.
I am relieved to hear somebody
will survive our noises.
Thoughtlessly I judged you dirty
while dropping poisons and freeways and bombs
on the melted landscape.
I want to bribe you
to memorize certain poems.
My generation too craves posterity.
Accept this dish of well aged meat.
In the warrens of our rotting citites
where those small eggs
round as earth wait,
spread the Word.

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