It won't take long to tour
Foreclosure Row. Cul-de-sac
of lost gambles, vanished
neighbors, untended lawns.
Paradise for profiteers
and vagabonds who may yet
prosper. See this
kitchen, stainless-steeled and
backsplashed, where
a bowl of pears still sits
atop the granite. All the
juice, ripeness, satisfaction
leached away. The rotting flesh
a feast for flies and worms.

© Erika Dreifus

Slumburbia

Erika Dreifus lives in New York City. Her poems have appeared in American Journal of Nursing, Christian Science Monitor, Moment magazine, and others. She is also the author of Quiet Americans: Stories. Please visit her website at www.erikadreifus.com
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Erika Dreifus
Author of Quiet Americans: Stories
Website
Twitter

"You could say 'hi' and 'bye-bye,'
but all our friends' children,
even the ones younger than you,
were speaking in sentences.
We didn't worry (well, not much)
because we knew you could read.
You were about eighteen months.
We bundled you up, went for a walk.
There was a British Petroleum
gas station across the street—
that's what it was called back then,
British Petroleum—
and right there, in your stroller,
you let your thumb fall from your mouth,
you pointed to the sign and you yelled,
'B P!'
We didn't tell too many people.
We didn't want to brag."



© Erika Dreifus


28 Feb 2011: NIH launches largest oil spill health study
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Erika Dreifus lives in New York City. Her poems have appeared in American Journal of Nursing, Christian Science Monitor, Moment magazine, and others. She is also the author of Quiet Americans: Stories. www.erikadreifus.com