jane doe
in this clumsily-built democracy,
our cement warehouse bunks
will be the un-ministered tip of
what we did right.
unforseen invitations to build
kitchen-sink luck-light harbors
where we turn away from
smoky streets of thousands
to return to the trouble when
denied imprisonments clamor;
new names walk the walls -
"climb what you think," they say.
we assaulted the compromise,
swept the shattered glass,
replaced the news-stands.
there were places we didn't belong.
posted by judy j @ 3:29 PM
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