[Marxism] Adrienne Rich has died

MICHAEL YATES mikedjyates at msn.com
Wed Mar 28 17:49:20 MDT 2012


 

Here is a poem by Adrienne Rich, from the November 2009 issue of Monthly Review:

 

The Ballad of the Poverties

 

There’s the poverty of the cockroach kingdom and the rusted toilet bowl
The poverty of to steal food for the first time
The poverty of to mouth a penis for a paycheck
The poverty of sweet charity ladling
Soup for the poor who must always be there for that
There’s the poverty of theory poverty of the swollen belly shamed 
Poverty of the diploma mill the ballot that goes nowhere
Princes of predation let me tell you
There are poverties and there are poverties
 
There’s the poverty of cheap luggage bursted open at immigration
The poverty of the turned head, the averted eyes
The poverty of bored sex of tormented sex
The poverty of the bounced check the poverty of the dumpster dive
The poverty of the pawned horn the poverty of the smashed reading glasses 
The poverty pushing the sheeted gurney the poverty cleaning up the puke
The poverty of the pavement artist the poverty passed-out on pavement
Princes of finance you who have not lain there 
There are poverties and there are poverties
 
There is the poverty of hand-to-mouth and door-to-door 
And the poverty of stories patched-up to sell there
There’s the poverty of the child thumbing the Interstate
And the poverty of the bride enlisting for war
There’s the poverty of prescriptions who can afford
And the poverty of how would you ever end it 
There is the poverty of stones fisted in pocket
And the poverty of the village bulldozed to rubble 
Princes of weaponry who have not ever tasted war
There are poverties and there are poverties
There’s the poverty of wages wired for the funeral you
Can’t get to the poverty of the salary cut
There’s the poverty of human labor offered silently on the curb
The poverty of the no-contact prison visit
There’s the poverty of yard sale scrapings spread 
And rejected the poverty of eviction, wedding bed out on street
Prince let me tell you who will never learn through words 
There are poverties and there are poverties
 
You who travel by private jet like a housefly
Buzzing with the other flies of plundered poverties
Princes and courtiers who will never learn through words
Here’s a mirror you can look into: take it: it’s yours. 		 	   		  



More information about the Marxism mailing list