Susan Astor
URBANIZATION
All night I hear the traffic rush like blood
And wake to find the city has moved in.
Jackhammers pound the ground outside my window.
Pigeons scuttle through the hall.
Strangers are busy in my closet;
Commuters ride the stairs.
The air is brown with smoke;
I am developing a cough.
All day thoughts rattle me.
I hear my blood rush like the traffic.
