SLAM!

Chicago


In April, when I come back, the city is kind,
not cruel.
                   My heart floats on great calm pools

of color--tulips in the median, yellow,
white, purple, red.

                   Wine at a café.

In the park, lilacs sway,
viburnum hangs a heavy cloak of sweetness.

Crabapple and tart cherry branches ripple pink and white.
This--!--is the life I wanted,

                                       and left.

                             Under the city

one man hunted another, aimed at the heart
with a crossbow. In my own basement

a man addicted to crack pried open
a locked cabinet.

                                       Now I am locked away

in my small town of a heart.
         I smell garlic, sweat, and fear.

                   Murder, theft, and fire
                             follow me here.

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