The railing winds its broken way
to tenements lost in the grey
of smoke and steam, of smog and sky
and children race the stairs up high
while fathers sleep and mothers stay
exhausted from another day.
The gnomes keep watch from far below
and benches creak ‘neath garden snow
and silence reigns below the town
where only children venture out.
And the rocks stand tall in the endless grey
while blackened snow makes branches sway.
Under the smokestacks the children play
as the sky glows red on a cloudy day
under the smokestacks on top of the sea
as the mothers watch from balconies
and the redbirds flit across the town
to keep the world from crashing down.
Under the smokestacks the world still turns
and the children watch the dancing birds
and the mothers rise to hear their songs
somewhere in the morning smog
and the gnomes still dance upon the snow
under the smokestacks, a world below.
Emily Karreman is a fourth-year student with majors in History and Russian and minors in Spanish and Global Studies.