We look at dwellings built on platforms
scaffolded by trees: their doorways
framed by branches that make
a natural screen from prying eyes—
There are the usual architectural
conventions: doors, windows, floors,
walls to mark a small enclosure; space
like a thumbprint made reluctant
to ink over the surrounding green.
Into this small ark there might be
room perhaps for only one of each:
pot, pan, boiler plate or tiny
stove; shelf, chair, and table
with legs that can fold. Rolled up
mattress or sleeping loft;
shower stall; toilet hitched
to compost, its little motor
running barely above
a whisper, as the body
surrenders its offerings
back to the soil.
In response to Via Negativa: Smog.