The city
wears a week
worn slip
of dingy
dishwater
and dank alleys
exposed
through
skyscraper
slits
She dragged in
the soot
of exhausted
souls
across the cracking
crowded
cement
Fi-Di
as if to say
resistance
is
futile
She dresses
this day
in
chic
ambivalence
One wonders
whether
the cornflower
blue
silk
sundress promises
will remain
hung
dangling
lavish
in the square's
gallows
or will she
wear
the stale
grey
resentment
kept
buried
deep
in the closet
for those days
when you do not want to be seen?
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