The Home City

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I am your caged sunsets

And melting gray snows,

Your sick, soaring highways

And thin hungry crows

 

I am your pale faces,

Your trampling feet;

I am your gas shackles,

Your old madman’s grip

 

I’m the last breath brewing

In your collapsed lungs

I am your heart pumping

Cold blood in black lumps

 

I’m the missing heiress

To your granite land,

Your history’s jewels,

Your demons and debts

 

Your prodigal daughter

Is back – take her in;

I tried to escape you

But, daddy, you win!

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