Debora Greger Poems
Comments about Debora Greger
A Woman On The Dump
Is it peace,
Is it a philosopher’s honeymoon, one finds
On the dump?
Out of the cracks of cups and their handles, missing,
the leaves unceremoniously tossed, unread,
from a stubble of coffee ground ever more finely
into these hollowed grounds,
the first shift coaxes bulldozers to life,
sphinxes to tease the riddled rubble
into fresh pyramids of rot. A staleness warms enough
to waft round the lord of all purveyed.
His to count the hauls past the yawning gates
of this New Giza into the Middle Kingdom’s