Anaphora of This City

This city walks on barefoot and shouts
full throated the word ‘freedom’.

This city is where people sleep
under the shadow of pushcarts

This city listens to the soft rustle
when the flowers open their petals.

This city shines against a sky
of cotton and dry light.

This city collects shadows of
those dark lamp posts.

This city is a silent witness
of flies and carcasses.

This city is more alive than sleepy
and devours silence.