My City, the Forgiven

..

We say Welcome
with a neon sign
and a Strip full
of options that just
might ensure some
-thing that happens
here needs to stay.

We paint sin in
every color, ask you
to place your bets
and hold your breath
while Lady Luck dances,
dodges your unwanted
glances and curious hands.

We give decadence new
names every day, think of
new ways to scintillate
you, titillate you, stimulate
you into a beautiful
oblivion.

There’s a wedding chapel
’round the corner if you
wanna get hitched, a divorce
lawyer down the street
when you hit that first glitch,
a waiting casino if you
wanna get rich;
and a pawn shop
to pay for it all.

Yep. Sin City’s call
-ing. But most of us reside
in a quieter place.

We call it home.
And we call it grace.

 

 

.

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5 Responses to My City, the Forgiven

  1. GOOSE. BUMPS. SO good, De…wow. This is such stunning work. ♥

  2. Mia says:

    Beautiful. We all live in Sin City, even if we don’t.

    You are such a fantastic poet. Reading you is such a treat!

  3. I love that stanza that begins with “wedding chapel.” “Hit that first glitch” – indeed, that’s all it seems to take!

  4. Ah, what a beautiful journey through the spectrum of experience. I love the way your last line cracks the shell of the city open and shows the refreshing contrariness there. Beautiful.

  5. Kir Piccini says:

    Such a beautiful way to imagine our world…home and grace instead of the other…

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