Salvatore Ala Poems
My America is all Detroit, Motown, dancing in the streets, my girl,
Tropical heat waves and what becomes of the brokenhearted after a riot.
My America is the 67 riot and flames above the city,
My America is the arrival of The National Guard, revolution in the air,
CKLW news and the “murder-meter” rising.
My America is The Spirit of Detroit and The Joe Louis Fist.
My America is Rosa Parks and visits by Martin Luther King.
My America is where the South was born after the South had died.
My America is getting out of neighborhoods before ...
When I picture my mother in her thirties in a red dress
Swooning to Mario Lanza’s Granada
On 78rpm, my memories sound
With forgotten revolutions per minute
Turning to roses and laughter and dance steps,
Turning to Europe in the vast sunset of war
And the static of questions childhood could not form
As history ate through the grooves
With crackles and bomb blasts