Squatter's Rights
struggling to take root on stolen land
This poem is featured in volume 1 of FLYOVER mag, out this Friday (6.20.2025). To secure your printed copy of the zine, become a paid subscriber before Friday and provide a mailing address to have it sent straight to your mailbox.
invasive species
hobo drifter
the vacant lot screams EVICTION
root rot,
ghost white rat king
like worms in the bleeding
stolen soil
the occupying army of land developers
suits cover graves
with slate-grey particle board
property value grows,
no one owns.
race to the “vacant” lot, dig for
rings, heirlooms, in
pore-shrinking rubble
ice boiling angry, kicking down doors,
former lovers barred from
wrong-flavored self-mutilation,
bathrooms,
just for needing to shit.
the planters want us poor, sick,
pregnant, estranged,
out of sight/mind.
I wail in the town square
and stab my spade in the angry soil
until I hit bone.
So cool—loved that ending!