• navoneil 15w

    Maximum, Less Some

    When rains lash
    They whip the roads of this city hard
    Till skins open into angry weals
    Bursting with storm water.
    Pockmarks form like a rash
    On the face
    Of this not-so-adolescent city.

    Over time
    These will join to form new layers
    Of uneven indelicate skin
    And kiss new lovers
    Like broken hearts and limbs,
    But not today.

    The rains will capture train tracks.
    They will fell foot over-bridges.
    They will trace new cracks in old flyovers.

    One day,
    Over months that will run into years,
    These bridges and these flyovers will be birthed
    Again and again
    In parts that will not always fit,
    With strength that will always be less
    Than their weight in pockets
    Full of gold,
    But not today.

    The rains will soak into the wooden foundations
    Of this ancient city
    Till the air is filled with the sweet rot
    Of corpses on its footpaths,
    For once at the same level
    As the gateways to its mansions.

    This city has always been rising
    From ashes.
    Each time it rises a little less steady,
    Its knees marked with a few more bruises,
    Its rallying cry slightly less deafening.
    There will come a time
    When this city will refuse to rise,
    But not today.

    The rains have broken bones, bridges and roads
    But no one has died.
    Because the city has not fallen apart,
    We rejoice.
    This city is still maximum
    If not always

    There was a time once
    When maximum was not about survival
    Not today.