Child of the City
2020
Let us go then, you and I,
Robed in our best rags, we
Listen to eclectic streetlamps
Sing their lucent birdsongs
And the clockwork hum of
Autos passing, drifting further into the night,
Never stopping, always passing over and
To better places.
We feel the rain washing from us soot
And loosened tarmac, swirling into pools
By the road, where, in swathes,
The moon inflects its glow, weaving light
And mottled threads on the grayed cloth
Of smog and loom.
I carry you on my shoulders and
My feet sink deeper into the weeds laced
Between upturned concrete.
I grasp your tiny hands and we feel for the
Pulse of the tarnished city, voiceful with
Its whine and constant drone.
The city smells like old coins – dug up from
The old lives of copper mines, derelict,
Despairing, metallic like blood
And the old drywall broken in
By changing hands, peeling away to reveal
Dust and asbestos.
Let us go then, you and I,
Had you been here I would
Look in your eyes, so glimmering and full of hope,
And promise
To make yours a life worth living.