Steps, the pattering against silence, as if to war, then
Hush:  The vague morning twist and call of the city to arms.
Smoke fills the early lungs, and billows up against the steel.
Men, important, head-straight to the wind, while
Women, strong now, avert their eyes to men’s.
And men, the fixture of the city’s back,
Anachronistic audience of construction, sit
Against the low-laid brick, on metal-cable spindles,
Shining round in the morning light, whose heads move
Openly up and down with the passing rack,
And whistle loudly against the rumbling pulse.
In the streets, the impatient run, loud in races
Against the people, symbiotic to a stop,
Sitting clutched within the shadowed glare of glass and steel,
Strewn heavens above the battlefield.