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.