Turquoise tourmaline tangerine sky,
neon run through the alley
run for some sanctuary. No matter,
what’s behind will run faster.
Snow blown drifts, tinted air brush of filth
white fade to black, dogs add yellow, green vomits
from drunks. No thing falls unspoiled
and rises clean here. Don’t fall.
Noise shatters glass broken noise endless,
clamor yelling curses machinery screams.
Even the air makes red pulsing howling
wind growls in summer, draws blood in the snow.
Out on the lake's the sweet safety of empty,
tossing vaults of cold cobalt vast as that country
where you’ll never go. Watch whisperwhite foam
washtease a promise that dwindles away.
Shrink the self smaller, mouse small, or a pea.
Hide avoid run and the blows sometimes miss,
but words are barbed arrows handfletched for maiming
that always fly true so fly faster fly through
concrete mud and brick sharp falling down rubble
rot kicked to the curb, trash blown down the street.
The bums beg for change from a child
who has nothing, under the bloodshot
tourmaline tangerine sky.
Claudia hosts this week's challenge, and her prompt today is Going Urban: to write a poem about a city real or imaginary. Mine is about the city where I was raised, Chicago, Illinois