Sitting on top of a hill in the poorest city in the Midwest

Looking conversely down

porch-perched along an

asphalt ribbon wrapping

down to windowless

bricked factories and particle-

boarded storefronts, where

I used to be.

A brown and grey and black

sparrow hops to and fro on

the spotted grass and cracked

sidewalk looking for his sustenance only then

his flight. Where

and how far?

Looking conversely up

Midwest-grounded and terra

-cotta obstructed, an impulse

manifests from the back

black and urges him

forward and up---

Why him, why now?

Nothing to do but

act upon it---lost

friends and family

unknown and new

faces.