Reclamation is a passionless drum

That beats from the west.

A persistent baritone jumbled mess.

It leaves its brother

To mind the inland clearing.

Collapse. Dissolve. Reclaim.

Decay lies dormant

In every front yard, every pot,

Every gap in the pavement grid.

It thrives in the bayshore boglands

And rusty dogpatch husks.

It moves all along the railroad edge.