Here is a city, one with a tree and a star.
In the middle of its green lake, a V of ducks
sends ripples toward a shoreline where willows
droop their curtains of leaves. Hearts beat
in towers rising into banks of cloud.
There are no windows and the air is still.
Hawks nest on the highest floors.
You can watch them hunt for mice in wild
acres of motionless park. Nobody’s feet
can be glued to the sand. Many drag kites
as wind hollows patterns in brick and steel.
The economy has many hands, many throats.
Silent trains rush past and women glide
along rainy streets. Search for a city with a zoo
made of ice. So many beautiful birds open
the roof of sky. Camels gather by date palms,
raise furred heads at hypnotic clicks,
their movements silk and sparks and polished glass.
If you have any comments on this poem, Steve Klepetar
would be pleased to hear from you.