CHICAGO by Mark Schorr
Beautiful city from which I came,
forever amber, I want to show the sweep
of your broad-backed spacious skies
from the fetal heartbeat of your R & B
or the race-riots of your armillary bridges
from the polluted sweep of your inland sea
or the glacial remains of your middle-western land
as varied as your face-bricked one-acre prairie lots
or your recycled synagogues of iron-columned gesso,
and your tight immigrant enclaves there
that made Martin King cry with despair
your lion-porched and roof-shimmered art palaces
that washed away almost every nightmare
beautiful city, always changing in my mind,
defining that which cannot be defined.