Mitchell Nobis

there is a line
around detroit.
there are borders
where the horizon of
broken cement & shattered glass
is a bottom line’s dream come true.
you cannot heal infection
without medicine.
what is a new plate-glass window
but a thousand transparent dollar bills,
what is a patched mile of concrete
but melted bouillon,
taxes turned into road tar.
where did that money go
because if the troll took it
to hoard under the bridge
waiting for more goats to grift,
then in time the bridge just breaks
right on top of him
in the richest nation
ever in the richest nation
ever
in the richest nation
ever.
oh suburbs in flight,
ask yourselves why,
ask ourselves, white.