Brooklyn 1979
Brooklyn 1979
Whitman, thou shouldst be living at this hour,
riding the Brooklyn subway or its cabs,
not tending wounds, but picking at the scabs
that crust our lives and turn our lifeblood sour.
The lusty laborers you knew now cower
in factories, kitchens, offices, or labs.
Their furtive hearts behind the concrete slabs
might yet find courage in your loving power.
O Walt, who reached into all secret places
unjudgingly and celebrated all,
now in this air-conditioned shopping mall
where buyers mingle masked, their features glossed,
discern our tender flesh and frightened faces
and whisper where our dignity was lost!
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