Detroit (i) the fist

Detroit

(i)

the fist


As the iron fist thrusts its knuckles in a downward
show of might, my eyes look up at its suspension
between the earth and sky and I
wonder what it would be like
to have it hit my face
all sight of glistening towers shattered
into stars that swirl
like whirls of a carousal
my innards spewing forth like froth
from the fountain of Belle Isle Park,
where the lions mouth the strong arm's name:
Joe Lewis.


Kåre Enga


catalogue number: [162.451]
15 oktober 2005