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49

by John Herzog

I was touched once,
a vase picked up and

shattered like the windows
into an empty house

whose walls crawl with
mildew, floors soaked in

piss, barren, its front
door marked condemned,

sitting at the end of your
street for six years, pieces

waiting for the right foot to
make me feel worth being

stepped on, worth entering,
touched again, from shards to

splinters, foundation crumbling
below the weight of the rotted

facades above; before the waste
turns too toxic, let the lot

be razed and rebuilt


01/08/2018

Author's Note: CTA, bus route 49.

Posted on 01/08/2018
Copyright © 2018 John Herzog

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 01/09/18 at 03:14 AM

The building's voice here is so strong, the stark details presented in these short couplets is so effective, devastation and hopefulness both a part, one wonders what will happen next. Really a fine one to read aloud.

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