113 of 282

by Cassandra Hilton

The air is brisk for the first time this fall
Detroit's been strangely warm and dry
As we follow the railroad tracks
The train from Chicago is scheduled to arrive
At 9:08 as the red lights flash, we thrive
And the empty fancy ketchup packets
Give us their last as we walk upon
The desolate skeletons of hunger left behind
From New York or who knows where from
And we may be the only ones
To welcome this old crowd
Come back from the Windy City
And greet these familiar hollow frowns
They just walk past
Eyeing the streets for a place they could call home
But you're back in Detroit now, my friend
Where there's only one place to go
You can leave it, but it never leaves you
The image of a city so hungry all that's left
Is hanging skin and aching bones

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Poetry: Society

by Cassandra Hilton

Poetry: Society

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