Future Visions

by Aleeya Wilson


The future is

a fickle mess

of finesse,

land pulled

from under

institutions like

a dinner tablecloth.


Sinking high-rises

tilting from guilt

neighborhoods ruined,

culture swiped sideways &,

sold suddenly

scene taken &

packed into

boxes, left on curbs

fringes fall &

flatten away.


Apparitions of

buildings past flicker

on & off in

a dull light,

repurposed reconstructions

with a coat of

new paint, pop-up buildings

stick & land

30 days.


Bulldozer alarm clocks

in the same cacophony,

traffic lines in

a perpetual race for

parking space,

the ideology of

the city has been

repurposed &


not to

the highest bidder

but to

the influencers.


Wherever they are

within the margins &

the boundaries

this construction

cannot be left &

recommitted into

something new

in the void

that surrounds

this empty space.