Dave Bonta's "Civilization" is a short, uneasy look at what a city really is. It begins with an image of creation: a place "drawn out of / a quiet heavy nothing." Civilization seems to appear from emptiness, and the word "heavy" suggests that emptiness carries weight.
The next image is odd and a little sad. A letter from me to myself, with each side thinking the other a fool, sounds like a mind divided against itself, or a society that talks only to its own reflection. The poem then says every city is all the cities, which suggests sameness, as if one place repeats everywhere.
The ending turns darker. Those who live in the country around the city "pay / in blood and little supper." Judging by the wording, the speaker sees the cost of urban life falling on others, who get hunger and violence in return. The mood is cool, wary and quietly accusing, with little comfort offered.