STREETS of the STOCKADE

STREETS of the STOCKADE

The streets - a spectacle
of beauty – icicles hung from
lampposts magnifying
sheets of frozen water on
cobblestone

While - women complained
how cold it was –
inside one room - a
tenement, filled with
immigrants

While - women complained
of noise outside, it was the
middle of the night; men
gathered around a pail
of fire - like bums

Men - gathered inside a
Saloon, inside a back –
room - more men people
gathered there – or around
a corner at a butcher shop
both had a back – door.

Men – those who worked -
delivered coal, complained
when they were on strike,
while women used brown
sugar and the price of
steak cheaper than butter -

Stockade – streets filled
by people from their towns,
countries, divided by streets
Moreover, thousands moved in
yet, how many – no one
really knew.

War, men from other countries
felt obligated to fight, to stand
tall for the new country called
home – while others never did
become American.
War, war in the streets,
in alley ways in bar rooms
on corners, but not far away
the rich played.

Stockade, its streets with
Saloons, bakeries, grocery
stores and men directing
a horse and carriage yelling
“Rags, rags.”

Children in knickers run –
upset the horse, dash to
find fruit, a fruit man and
his horse and carriage
tumbled on cobblestone –

A stockade, where Indians
once fought – still brings
war to immigrants claiming
space on city streets.

Nancy Duci Denofio
@2011 All Rights Reserved