Faithful seekers whisper
civic mottos—rest
when you die, ask not
             the hour.

Father city’s venerable builders
measure avenues with golden tape,
scribble equations
quantifying the span
of potential reverence
and anticipated profit.

These new cities are chartered
before they can be yanked
from their mothers.
Fresh earth shoveled
over the brined lapping
of estuary gates
             gushing pearls and tissue.

Forever sun—

four-chambered heart
thudding in a hot, bold sky;

the harder the wailing,
the harder the beating.