After

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It is beautiful to know

how rapidly the slow

digestive tracks of time

devour a city,

 

The raw brown root-fingers

crinkling and peeling open

concrete wrappers of

streets and buildings,

 

Tearing with wriggling,

termite-ridden teeth

at ankles of telephone poles,

jugulars of signposts,

 

And drunk off the fumes

of derelict gas stations,

wet breath salivating rust

on the broken spokes of riderless bikes,

 

Wild bear-paw feet

knocking over cans of trash,

their thud rippling across

the hovering silence

 

While rat-eyes catch themselves

in a shattered pre-school mirror

and scurry down finger-painted halls

over left behind gas mask, husbandless shoe.

 

But in the city’s heart

Trees erupt from asphalt,

Deer raise their kin

In newfound boundless shelter.

The End

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