Modes of Construction

Brick buildings hide the dirt extremely well;
Unless a brick is missing, all appears
To be OK. To look at them you could not tell
What kind of neighborhood this is, what fears,
What turmoil rests inside of every soul
Who walks these streets at night. Bricks hide the dirt,
And hide the way what's dirty takes its toll,
The way unsafety and worry pervert
What should be normal. Wood might show its fear,
Warping and bending: glass is too transparent;
White stone shows it all, marbled but clear:
In all of these the trouble is apparent.
But bricks can hide, and will. In dull brick red
You cannot tell the way the city bled.