Saturday, October 20, 2007

Almost Got Away With It

Something tried to steal the city –
almost got away with it;
I was there – it wasn't pretty –
fought the thing and stayed with it

until it bloodily succumbed –
and in a headlock promised –
while its abandoned phantoms bummed
around for handouts – on this

chilling dark October dawn – to
get the hell out of the heart
of my metropolis – screw
up some other lesser part

of somewhere else – as far away
as hell or heaven might be:
not to dare to darken one day
more of my hard-won sight. We

faced off again: it tried to swear –
but I drew up the morning
to the sun: abruptly dared to bare
a coral-colored awning

over it and everything. All
ceased and an eternity
resumed as if it never stalled,
began or ended: city

slowly ripened into rhyme and
notions chimed to unity.
The thing that tried to steal my land
left me with impunity.

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