1. Stephen Huff's Collected Poetry: 1987
Stephen Huff's
NIGHT IN THE CITY
09/87
It is never night in the city
although our souls are so well asleep.
Hidden among shadows, no sorrow, no pity,
we are awash--no time to weep.
It is always live in the city,
the sidewalks cast more costly than gold
for all broken men having never known pity,
but for the brick walls, our bodies grow old.
He said it is never sad in the city,
all God's harlots lined up in rows,
their lips red and curled, regardless of pity,
they're our only salvation, the Good Lord knows.
There is only death down in the city,
the death of the heart and purchase of mind,
for all the insane consumed with self-pity,
for all the broken, sorry and blind.
It is never night in the city,
street lights shine down, our only stars,
colored with the scabs of cataract pity,
but pivots for moths and alleyway wars.