MIDTOWN REVIVAL AND THE FINGER OF FATE
Wednesday, midweek, after Rose Monday
and Shrove Tuesday pass without notice,
a quiet man appears in Chicago (chosen
because Irish-Catholic); a Wonder Worker
returns but the villagers suffer Lent,
its long fast from belief. He shows
them visions of paradise.
Police atop geldings disperse the crowd
that gathers. Move along. Nothing
to see here. Move along. Morning”s
business traffic reaches high pitch,
drowns out comforting words. Grey suits
passing drop coins at his feet. Shoppers
stare into store windows, try to recall
that face. Was it “As the World Turns?”
A bit part. No! “All Our Children”!
Looks like it”s going to be a scorcher,
reports a passing taxi, its radio loud
cluttering thin air over raging curses
of the gutter class some of whom
urinate against the daylight wall
behind the Wonder Worker, baptized
in their river of night before cheap
drinks. Traffic lights rotate the three
basic laws. Go pause Stop. Beginning
middle and End. This is the One Way.
Two boys in colors stab, rob, then rape
the Wonder Worker. He is left to die
at the Water Tower. A finger points
toward heaven. A street vendor finds
his spot defiled. He shutters: What?
Christ Jesus, not again.