People have built a city better
than ours again. Being from New York,
this is all we see for a long time,
the one thing we say when we go
anywhere. It's unruly; flowers grow
year long , creeping over walls. I want to say
like cancer, but I see our faces
in store windows, undulating as we walk
and I think of dogwoods
in Brooklyn, false-starting last
January, blossoms settling in slush,
fooled and beautiful.
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© 1994 by Patrick Martin
Originally appeared in ARK/Angel.
© by Patrick Martin. All rights reserved. No duplication in any print or electronic format is permitted without express permission from the author.