John Gorski

A Window on Seattle in 2018

Through the window, the yellow crane,

a slowly spinning sentinel,

casts me out like an infidel –

a refugee to be in misty rain.

 

A dark bird flies from the garden

into the condo, crowded sky

where it loses its stricken cry

to the street’s ambulance sirens.

 

Everywhere here, business is good

and grows wild like a contagion

from the campus of Amazon –

the great Ant-eater of old neighborhoods.

 

In this Bezosian babel

where the rents are rising higher,

affordable living expires

in the wired urban techno-babble.

 

Fern and moss, ivy and cedar

are some remaining mementoes

in these April morning shadows

of Cascadia and its green whisper.

 

The wrens now sing elegies

In the carbon monoxide dawns

of this metropolis of pawns

played by the latest oligarchy.