when beacon beckons

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bricks that track from our toes to the sky
pave sweet grated pathways
in their burnt, rusty red

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those eager vines that rush more than crawl
flood every fiery facade
in a lush twisting green

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steeped in history, every crevice speaks
the soothing wordless soliloquy
of gaslit alleys and sun drenched squares

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inside ivory tiles surround
eighteen caged white bulbs glow and
baked blonde treats tarte-in and pop over
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out on and in corners under churches
electric hand on my cheek
your warmth connects, arrests and protects

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hebrew names that start with f
evade the soundtrack of the park

while mosaic half shells made of wood
watch our lazy outdoor naps

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fuzzy paintings drinks and walls
follow from the Hill to Hanover
stooped pizza breaks buzz us
and St. Anthony’s loud feast parades down the streetIMG_2394

a new Hill to Watch
another urban mountain to climb
a gold Beacon guides our steps
up up away in and together so we rise.
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-from a Beacon-drunk mind on Monday the 31st of August, 11:42 pm. 

8 thoughts on “when beacon beckons

    • Thanks, Mahallia! Providence will forever be my favorite and the most beautiful, but this is actually Boston…buuuuuut it’s just a quick train ride away if you do decide to visit Providence (which I fully support!!!) xo

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