Friday, August 5, 2005

Last Night in St. Louis (p. 3)

Last Night in St. Louis
Angela Feeherty

Above my head cracks are forming;
sky raining on downtown as confetti,
streets shimmering,
bluish shards
crunching as I walk
from Tucker to Washington to 10th;

the vacant gray buildings
create tunnels before my eyes.

Looking down I can see
the clouds, soft pink and bright
tangerine wisps passing through
the ground, blown by strong winds
out of the city,
on to places where the earth still trembles,

the pulse of clear-green rivers swelling
like veins through the grasslands.

The industrial East City
is gone from my sight.
Hollow buildings in South City,
ghettoes in North City,
segregated West County,
lost, beyond location.

Here on the sidewalks the sun
is passing--
blues and yellows and oranges
of the smashed crystal ball
are fading to black.

I sit down on Locust,
brush the sunset off my shoulder
just as a half-moon is forming.
I look across the cityscape
through the fog of falling
shining atmosphere
at the lonely shadowed Arch
that, when passed through, will take me
where I always knew I would go.

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