Child of the City


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.

Luke Ang (Class of 2022) is a Film student, and was from the second batch of Literary Arts.