The City Is A Garment Poem by Michael Burch

A rhinestone skein, a jeweled brocade of light, —
the city is a garment stretched so thin
her neon colors bleed into the night,
and everywhere bright seams, unraveling,

cascade their brilliant contents out like coins
on motorways and esplanades; bead cars
come tumbling down long highways; at her groin
a railtrack like a zipper flashes sparks;

her hills are haired with brush like cashmere wool
and from their cleavage winking lights enlarge
and travel, slender fingers... softly pull
themselves into the semblance of a barge.

When night becomes too chill, she quickly dons
great overcoats of warmest-colored dawn.