hard-hatted burly friendly men
are digging two holes in front of
my large red brick victorian house
seen lately on the front page of the
state j-r, albeit as backdrop. the pits
plunge down into the berm (as it’s
called in ohio; devil-strip in wisconsin
—what in illinois?) the grape hyacinths
are deep-sixed, just as they were about
to grape out. in their place will be
shoe-blacking-black lampposts, one
tall curved, the shorter like a candle,
both designed from an earlier era.
more will line the curbs, an avenue
of elegance. benevolent beams will
discourage the denizens of the dark
who frequently frequent this street.
sixth street is already in full bloom,
our turn next. I recall night walks up
our wisconsin country lane, the stars
so thick in the velvet sky you’d reach
up with your mitten, grab a handful to
stuff in your pocket. today north sixth
is broadway. tomorrow or next week
north fifth will be broadway, too.

© 2010 Jacqueline Jackson