Blue smoke and cider sounds   curled above our heads like tongues of fire   under wires in a big   City Hall stands tall and every pregnant pause   is giving birth to answers   I can't understand.   "We're only starting a racket 'cause you've started a racket!"   I scream, "We only want to level this city because   things are so uneven!" But I don't think they can hear me.   Like hot breaths between my praying hands   could make my fingers glow,   like the psalms between my palms are all   I'll ever need to know,   I count out hymns for hims and hims and hers and hers   and hims-for-hearses, turn to face the wind and silence   flying sins in words-like-curses.   "Church and state had their day in the centuries before,"   I say, "The future is unwritten if we hold what can erase."   But I still get sad ripping up ads that the Marines   send to friend every kid in my family.   ('Cause I can afford to.)   I told her once, "There's a great line in this song I heard,   But I can't tell you unless something really big happens to us."