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[SOMETIMES IN THE ROUGH GARDEN OF CITY SPACES]
Sometimes in the rough garden of city spaces
where I believe a mugger will not approach me
because so far no mugger has approached me
I stop to take breath.
The city exists by acts of faith
that we and our children are safe,
that the pounding wheels of cars will miss them,
that the traffic will stop when the lights turn,
that parks will stay green, that money is not everything,
that the lime trees that line our streets are lopped and cropped
with the best of intentions,
that the orange glow of the streetlamps is moonlight
to that couple there, locked in each other, lost
in the city's night-time suspension.
HELEN DUNMORE
Sometimes in the rough garden of city spaces
where I believe a mugger will not approach me
because so far no mugger has approached me
I stop to take breath.
The city exists by acts of faith
that we and our children are safe,
that the pounding wheels of cars will miss them,
that the traffic will stop when the lights turn,
that parks will stay green, that money is not everything,
that the lime trees that line our streets are lopped and cropped
with the best of intentions,
that the orange glow of the streetlamps is moonlight
to that couple there, locked in each other, lost
in the city's night-time suspension.
HELEN DUNMORE
no subject
Date: 2008-06-24 04:26 am (UTC)