THE CITY IS BEAUTIFUL

the City is Beautiful! broken pipes,
our flat in front of the toilet
which everyone in the building
rushes to use
at 7 a.m. in the morning. the stink
not so much an environmental
hazard now, as something
only vaguely intrusive
at the back of our minds. sara

flicking her cigarettes on the staircase
her fourteen-year-old thighs
uncovered by sequined
skirt.

my mother who carries her sorrow in her elbow
like an over-large library book
borrowed for just one day
takes no notice
when i lead my girls
(mascara, poetry, summer loving)

into my room which is the most sound-proof
in the flat.

the urban fauna in the basement
the hungry sky in its smudged clothing crouching
staring in at the window

who should i pity? angel-barbados, the radio man
downstairs always tuning a burnt-out TV?
sara with enough money for cigarettes

but not enough for school?...

and then of course there's the poster lining the walls
this week -- "Thursday the 15th
of July, a witty play
confronting the ironies of city life debuts --

The City Is Beautiful !!!!

PROPHETS

we came back from school, God & I -
flung our bags upon the porch
and raced into the kitchen
casserole on the stove
and carrots orange, obscenely so, under
the bulb.
the armchairs smiling with their
bowed backs - the newspaper
smell of the table
catching up with us.

outside at night the space wars are raging -
we watch
from our window
brief flashes through the lace curtain.

"The Cardasians will win, I know it," God mutters.
"The prophets are always wrong."

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