Visible Proofs

A Two-Part poem about a City, Past and Present

This one came to me when thinking about the lifespan of a city.

Hopeful beginnings,
eventual decay.



My body is a wonderland.

My brain, a well-lubricated machine.
Free from sluggish bureaucracy,
vestigial regulations. Neurons
send innovative impulses
through my body, evolving
closer to perfection.

My skin, fertile and moist.
The cool lotion of new
commerce keeps my body
supple. Immigrants freckle
my face with flavor and vision,
a masquerade mask
of culture and change.

My veins, thick and flowing.
Concrete capillaries,
arteries of asphalt,
the populace my plasma,
enriched with dreams of
brighter days and
scarlet Knights.

My lungs, coniferous, deciduous,
blanketing my heart
with leaves and vines.
They inhale waste,
exhale sustenance,
provide shelter and
safe space.

Another home.
Another hour formed.

That was…my hope.

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