Foreclosure: A poem by Marilyn zuckerman | Economic Opportunity Institute

Foreclosure

by Marilyn Zuckerman

Before the auction,

the realtor

puts out a sign

and places flowers on the windowsill.

Someone has mowed the lawn

shut off the water and electricity

—still the swing in the back yard

moves as though someone is in it,

a doll is found kicked to the back of a closet

a jar of jelly in the fridge

letters in the attic

a rubber boot in the mudroom

a dog bed in the basement

daffodils straggle in the grass

—a half-finished patio

the stack of bricks nearby.

The family that only yesterday

wore the boot

played with the doll

called the dog

had a job,

led prudent lives—

rent a van,

slip away like felons

in the dead of night

Once debtors were thrown into prison

sometimes for life—

now families live in grungy motels,

overflowing shelters

sleep in their cars

on the street

under bridges

or in flimsy tent cities.

In the movie, The Salt of the Earth,

when the sheriff came and his men flung the family’s belongings to the sidewalk,

neighbors returned everything back inside and sent the sheriff’s men packing.