Man stomping over my bed in boots
carrying a large bronze church bell
which you occasionally drop:
gross man with iron heels
who drags coffins to and fro at four in the morning,
who hammers on scaffolding all night long,
who entertains sumo wrestlers and fat acrobats--
I pass you on the steps, we smile and nod.
Rage swells in me like gas.
Now rage too keeps me awake.
| Best Poems | Short Poems
Email Poem |
Top Marge Piercy Poems
Analysis and Comments on The Neighbor
Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem The Neighbor here.