Zahra Johnson
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Zahra Johnson
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Lot 360
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A vacant lot full. Abandoned stores and boarded-up dwellings Once owned by working classes. Now, a sign of dis-investment. Yes, your dis-investment caused my sink to leak. It broke. You told me to pack, though my hands were unwashed. You could have asked and the answer would still be No, thank You, Sir! You will have to bulldoze my memory from the history of this lot. You and your investors. My lot. Full of vacancies your middle-class establishments can't uproot. A Starbucks on the corner of a newly renovated condo Can force my pockets to suffer change, But not my soul. Poor and pouring out my heart for generations to come, For the hidden memories cemented away from them. A vacant lot full of places to play Hide-n-seek or displace-n-conquer— Your game of choice, using urban theories to Predict their fate as well. As for this generation, Sir, Our soul lies in this lot, Vacant with its members missing and DISPLACED In the choking smoke of change Full with stubborn mules tired of watching Friends and families DISPLACED Because of their "low income" status. Can you gentrify my soul, too, Sir? Then change happens, again. Capital flows back into the inner city. Yes, you rehab'ed your foundation from my decay. Now, suburbia occupies urban space. An unfamiliar building high-rises to the sun, But it doesn't eclipse the older one. With its worn parts open like a fresh wound. A vacant lot full. Corner stores replaced by artsy cafés. The homeless swept away from under clean bridges. A fenced in lot, now a gated community— The Villages at East Lake. A lot full of trends. |