Pilgrim Baptist Church Fire, 2006

                      This city sings on –

     when hymns fade                    cicadas screech from shadowed nooks

        flames crackle in attic corners                    and trains grumble from exalted tracks     

          – disparate tunes convene the choir,

through crunch of roof beams, fires hum                    and sparks jolt from electric rails

           reach crescendo at the vaulted ridge                    as an El ferries bodies to the skyline’s heart

       to call the attention of some higher ear.

unfurl the smoke that swallows street as                    elsewhere crews stake fresh steel into earth

   congregations pull open their windows                    to set sights on sites of promise.          

        The chorus draws notes from deep in its guts

fire skins the house Thomas Dorsey built                    cicadas shed antique bodies

 while flames sing his singed sheet music                    before abandoning a hallowed shell.

             Every time this city burns,

              it rises a bit more muted.