City Noir

The caged birds of unrealized dreams
hang heavy from steel and glass skies
stooping the walk of pedestrians.

They think it’s a heavy rain but
it’s their anodized desire fracturing
into a thousand feminines/masculines
in the windows all around them.

Their noir has orange hair sirens with
Klint faces blowing gray smoke, or the
Private Dick who lives on past glances

through the torn blush of curtains,
the forward tilt of the black umbrella
that blocks the stained shadows behind.

City Noir read by Jonathan Moya