THE TRUTH OF IT
positioned for manna
from heaven to come raining out of the sky.
It’s too bad the bread of life is afraid to fall here.
We are left to our own ways
and mean devices to survive.
There is nothing left here
now that we have been compared
to Mogadishu nationally
only without the brave soldiers defending
their fallen willingly.
No all we have here is
the suits sitting with their $1000 a day lawyers
splitting and dividing up the bones as bounty.
People never mattered here
or them from somewhere else
would never had coined the term
“murder capitol of the world.”
This is not really a place where neighbor likes neighbor
for that is one fast way to lose your life.
I hate the little two minute news blurbs
used to reinforce burbs fears,
that tell of someone shot and killed
and all the people living near the dead say
“what a good neighbor he was.”
They are dead themselves already
they just haven’t caught the bullet yet.
Which is not true,
everyone here has caught the bullet,
of course it is a head shot,
the surest way to get your point across.
I love poets who write of their love for Detroit
but I wonder how much of it do they know?
“Even though I know the air hangs over River Rouge
like the smell of a dead dog’s ass…”
Blair wrote that and he passed beyond love for Detroit
enough to kill himself here.
I am a poet and I do not love this place
full of apartheid and hate
but I respect it,
that is enough to keep me alive,
to survive on memories of yesterday
when the hate was more open and palpable,
the days of learning to adapt,
to become capable of living in a city
that has shrank to a village of strangers
where no one gives a fuck
but to judge you on
more than your skin color than your name.
It’s never been different;
always it’s been the same.
But now, now no one cares
because we all know we swim
in the same pool of shit
that is Detroit, the truth of it.
© M Durfee
Blair’s line used without permission of estate.