Informant38

Sleeping in a Ditch

You'll be by the side of a road. You'll be too far
From where you were going � somewhere
Under a roof � and you won't have any place
To turn except to the ditch beside you, nowhere
Out of sight of people who wouldn't be happy
To see you out in the open
At the wrong time where you have no business
Being, somebody else's property
Where you need to have the right clothes
And the right kind of name and numbers
On pieces of paper in your pockets. A ditch
Is safer than it looks. Though you have no fire
And no ceiling, your walls go on and on
And are bulletproof, and if something wants to hurt you
From overhead, it has to have good aim
Like rain or snow. And nothing will notice you
From far away. You no longer look like someone
Who doesn't belong, standing on a horizon,
A silhouette, an easy target. Now you look like
Where you are. You can almost remember
Fighting for something. You stood up
For your convictions, but now you're crouching
And lying down for them. Wildflowers
And weeds and escaped roses have come here
Seasons ago and have stayed, and rainwater
Has fallen and gone to earth and gathered
And stayed again. If you had time,
You could make yourself at home
Among these others who've come and gone
To sleep, who've bedded themselves down
Without anyone's permission but their own
This evening which is already turning slowly
All by itself like you into nighttime.

David Wagoner
The Yale Review
Volume 90, Number 4
October 2002
in Poetry Today