North of Newark
Not the good kind of hot
But the kind of heat that paralyzes.
Mind and body are not one.
Sweltering summer snow only lay
A few inches from me--
A phone call away.
That’s the kind of city this is.
Where garbage litters once clean and
Hopeful streets and welcoming benches,
Lay as shattered ruins like a dilapidated movie house.
Reeling messages, scenes and stories told only
This is summer North of Newark.
By: Lauren Krause and Bryan Kish