& when
by some fluke you return, dragging your blue black behind you,
nothing is as it was. The city is stasis,
not dance. Bereavement, not dance. The music has darkened
& stopped its sway, the boulevards are empty theatre.
& who should love this? Who recognizes this? Broken curbs
& potholes & shoes hanging from power lines
& snatches of weave hair blowing like sagebrush. Statues
& statuses. Someone once said that crows are old, wise folks

& today they follow you again, hopping wire to wire, squawk
& squawk until you look up, call: Hey, hey, girl, ain’t no other
place knows you, loves you like this, knows that when you shine
out in the big wide, this here is what’s sparking your shimmer,
this is the pop, pop, pop lighting your eyes, filling your mouth with stars.
& you nod because the bones of you know
& there was really no escaping
this dance city, this holy morning empty street city,
this dialysis clinic on every other corner city, this be a smart girl city,
this play the harp on Tuesdays & Thursdays city,
this girl-you-look-good-&-we’re-called-to-praise-&-lift-you-up city,
this ice-skate city/jazz-dance city, this tote as many talents
       as you can carry city,
this be-whatever-you-want city, this daddy’s sweet pea city,
this drive like you want because we’re free city, this quiet & quake city,
this we used to build Lumina/Caddy/Explorer city,
this family reunion on Belle Isle/BBQ hot/thump music city,
this momma dressed as a scarecrow on Halloween city,
this Little Alabama City city, this Smokey/Aretha/Florence city,
this FaygoRedPop/VernorsGingerAle city,
this long memory city, this big wheel chipped tooth city,
this johnjohn & veevee & fernando/robyn/karriem city,
this how could you have stayed away for so long city. This
This city, this downbeat to the secret, irrational life of your heart.

 

 

Copyright © Crystal Williams 

 

 

 

Curator's notes

Niki Herd: This poem reminds me of home, of the trip I took back to Cleveland weeks ago and the drive through vacant streets. This poem is written as an homage to Detroit, but it's also written for the face of every struggling-to  -maintain, blue-collar city beneath which lies America and its gems.

 

 

Crystal Williams is the author of four collections of poems, most recently Detroit as Barn, finalist for the National Poetry Series and Cleveland State Open Book Prize. Her third collection, Troubled Tongues, was awarded the 2009 Naomi Long Madgett Poetry Prize and was a finalist for the 2009 Oregon Book Award, the Idaho Poetry Prize, and the Crab Orchard Poetry Prize. Widely anthologized, her poems also appear in journals and publications like The American Poetry Review, PEN America, Ploughshares, Virginia Quarterly Review, Tin House, The Northwest Review, 5AM, The Sun, Ms. Magazine, The Indiana Review, Court Green and Callaloo.

Williams is a member of the 1995 Nuyorican Slam team. She holds degrees from New York University and Cornell University, and has since received numerous fellowships, grants and honors, including a 2009 United States Artist nomination, a 2010 appointment as the Distinguished Visiting Professor of University Writing at DePauw University, and a 2012 appointment to the Oregon Arts Commission. She regularly serves the national poetry community in various capacities, including participation on selected committees, serving as a judge and reviewer, and on the board of arts organizations.

She has been on faculty at Reed College, Columbia College Chicago, and is currently Professor of English at Bates College. Also a senior level administrator, Crystal Williams was Reed’s inaugural Dean for Institutional Diversity and serves as Associate Vice President and CDO at Bates. She is co-chair of the national organization Liberal Arts Diversity Officers, on the executive committee of the Creating Connections Consortium, and briefly served on the steering committee of the Consortium for Faculty Diversity.