Roger Williams

1939 Here reposes dust from the grave of Roger Williams Doubtful relic soil fills the chasm Beneath the monument His Remains extracted of apple bearer’s fist Pounds through the casket Past the skull Open fingers down the spine Sprout diverged at the waist Snake below the knee Curve up to the toes Contoured by nature The tree’s root remains preserved Proof Of an escape His nitrogen To the surface From the grave Into a bud Of apple blossom Gate Take a picture with Roger. I can’t get close enough. Smile, what a handsome Grandson I have. Pike steered staffs corrode traces between prison and world barrier Time changes Spokes of remembrance To dead orange undertones Gate locks in locks out Renaissance City’s Guard From scrawlings of vandals empowered To be remembered Among the forgotten Statue Thirty times a decade gone Began the colony Of pure conscience Refuge for religious minorities Left is a monument Curse to a founder Left looking down At land he built Broken of stillness Wailing in sirens Distressed and warped steel behemoths land Choppers churn Never still Crumbing industrial horizon A city born here A city died here And this is how you honor him.