Kirkbride Street War Zone

Here a house holds.
	Curtains in the window unfurled.
paint and a tricycle on the porch
	proclaim: "We're staying."

Down the street, empty windows
	and shattered panes stare at the sky. 
The speculator's plywood standard
	is nailed across the door.

Between the houses is a vacant lot,
	rubble strewn. Remnants of a foundation
poke through the weeds 
	like broken teeth.

Back at the first house, at the kitchen table
	neighbors sit and talk. They discuss
rents and rats and baseball
	and how to defend the block.
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