Saturday, October 31, 2015

The Fall of Detroit

And now for a taste from far outside the wall of Chrysalis, back when the walls were still on the rise and the world was already making ready to evict humanity.

The Fall of Detroit

I am curled
in the corner.
A blown wrapper, hiding
in an ice box

The trees have passed.
They peeked in,
to water their roots.

They found many.
Now, squeezed water balloons,
scattered on the street.
Furry lopers chew
on the empty.
There is rubber in their teeth.

Vines slither;
green snakes embracing
my old, brick home.
In the morning,
it will be an overturned box of legos.

I do not know
what I will be.

A red star burns
in River Rouge.

They say
nothing grows there.
Nothing new

When the lopers lope,
I will too.

Twenty years
on the line
have left me slow.

I will not be slow tonight.

I will outrun the forest
that has eaten Detroit.

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