For Cleve­land

So that oth­ers need not fol­low my exam­ple.
So that we may no longer be called Job’s chil­dren.

So the spoor of our smoke­stack heart can be impaled
by its steeple sur­rounds. So there shall be a reck­on­ing.

So what buoys is more than mem­o­ries from a
gen­er­ous pour. So sin­is­ter becomes dex­ter.

So rock rolls from our souls again.

And because here we are all immi­grants. Because old steel
work­ers know the dif­fer­ence between strong and hard.

Because a home­less man’s bene­dic­tion inhab­its Euclid Avenue
like wind off the lake. Because we are poor but defi­ant.

Because this will not suc­ceed with­out human sac­ri­fice.
Because I drink the water of the Cuya­hoga.

Because tooth and nail is my kind of city.