This
old part of town
Where
the brick buildings rest
Formerly
abandoned factories
Forlorn
and yearning
Watch
their neighbor’s
Gutted
internal organs
Wretch
from glass cased mouths
Exposed
on familiar streets
Removed,
restructured, envisioned
Implanted
new vital entrails
Create
the latest this or hottest that
Encased
in soulful brick lined wombs
Some
denizens are sadder
That
once looked out
Through
many lidless eyes
To
watch as she walked down the street
She
walked all the way
From
the corner deli
To
the engine shop
To
meet her man
His
first Friday night off in 2 months
They
watched her pull him
All
the way down the road
Till
she and he merged
Formed
into one dark shadow
Shrunk
and melted
In
a fiery last gulp
Of
yawning late summer sun
That
was when the old place could see
Back
then each opening stood bright
Five
feet apart, four feet high
Three
feet wide and forty-eight squares
Hand
blown eyes
Unblinking
and patient
Blindness
now consumes
Each
once bright eye
Shut
by one small rectangle
After
one, after one after one more
Till
the last brick is placed
To
complete the darkness
Summer
skirts blocked out
Previous
pleasures erased
Callused
working hands surrender
To
blind kitsch filled buildings
The
old ways buckle under the scent
Of
sultry reductions simmering and steaming
Awaiting
the latest harvest of early green beans
And
mushrooms and arugula field plucked today
Serves
to allow the sightless guards
To
feel the warmth of usefulness
And
remember the fond dance of calico and denim
And the fire of a turning earth.
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