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Skybridge Rendering Above Minneapolis & the West Bank

By Tarik Dobbs

Skybridge Rendering Above Minneapolis & the West Bank Chorus: Like a bridge over troubled water… For years, settlers longingly, vertical, build over us, Starbucks has no sinks. Will we go? Lately, the bridge, their throne. When even these are somewhere to watch from, to drop a knee & propose somewhere to feel for a bank. Perhaps, some dry swallow Wellbutrin. The more domain for an eye to glaze over, In an estate, if you can roof it in, you can block access; unporous, or, you gaze upon, from your gaze above. The audience bullets. Chorus 2: I will lay me down, I will lay me down. Built across the land. Now, installing no toilets. My mom pees her pants. Where goers don’t dare to peer from thrones—a type of chair. Their window, somewhere over rush hour traffic. Their sunglasses on the way to where they gather sunlight & the higher this skybridge, to gaze over; the more, this way, bridges can become bulletproof glass. If above ground, you become bullets below. Or, you bullet one way glass, into a reflection. Chorus 1: Like a bridge over troubled water. For years, settlers longingly built across the land. now vertical, they build over us, installing no toilets. Starbucks has no sinks. my mom pees her pants. where will we go? lately, the bridge goers don’t dare to peer from their throne. when even these are thrones—a type of chair. somewhere to watch from their window, somewhere to drop a knee & propose over rush hour traffic. somewhere to feel for their sunglasses on the way to a bank. perhaps, some where they gather sunlight & dry swallow Wellbutrin. the higher this skybridge, the more domain to gaze over; the more for an eye to glaze over. in this way, bridges can become an estate, if you can roof it in (bulletproof) glass, you can block access; if above ground, you become unporous. or, you gaze upon bullets below. or, you bullet from your gaze above. one way glass the audience bullets into a reflection. Chorus 1 and 2 together: Like a bridge over troubled water…I will lay me down, I will lay me down. Like a bridge over troubled water.

Image Description of this Poem:

This poem appears in five columns. The title appears above the columns in bold black print. Text in the outer and middle columns are outlined in black rectangles and contain the chorus text, which appears capitalized and in italics. Text in the two main columns, between the chorus text, appears unbolded and full-justified. This is a contrapuntal poem with columns that can be read as separate stanzas then read across as one stanza. The poem reads:

Skybridge Rendering Above Minneapolis & the West Bank

Chorus 1: Like a bridge over troubled water…

For years, settlers longingly, vertical, they build over us, Starbucks has no sinks. Will we go? Lately, the bridge, their throne. When even these are somewhere to watch from, to drop a knee & propose somewhere to feel for a bank. Perhaps, some dry swallow Wellbutrin. The more domain for an eye to glaze over. In an estate, if you can roof it in, you can block access; unporous, or, you gaze upon, from your gaze above. The audience bullets.

Chorus 2: I will lay me down, I will lay me down.

Built across the land. Now, installing no toilets. My mom pees her pants. Where goers don’t dare to peer from thrones—a type of chair. Their window, somewhere over rush hour traffic. Their sunglasses on the way to where they gather sunlight & the higher this skybridge, to gaze over; the more, this way, bridges can become bulletproof glass. If above ground, you become bullets below. Or, you bullet one way glass, into a reflection.

Chorus 1: Like a bridge over troubled water.

For years, settlers longingly built across the land. now vertical, they build over us, installing no toilets. Starbucks has no sinks. my mom pees her pants. where will we go? lately, the bridge goers don’t dare to peer from their throne. when even these are thrones—a type of chair. somewhere to watch from their window, somewhere to drop a knee & propose over rush hour traffic. somewhere to feel for their sunglasses on the way to a bank. perhaps, some where they gather sunlight & dry swallow Wellbutrin. the higher this skybridge, the more domain to gaze over; the more for an eye to glaze over. in this way, bridges can become an estate, if you can roof it in (bulletproof) glass, you can block access; if above ground, you become unporous. or, you gaze upon bullets below. or, you bullet from your gaze above. one way glass the audience bullets into a reflection.

Chorus 1 and 2 together: Like a bridge over troubled water…I will lay me down, I will lay me down. Like a bridge over troubled water.

 

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: This poem was written in December 2019. The poem references speculative plans to build skybridge walkways for Israelis over the occupied West Bank, and connects them to the privatization of skybridge walkways in downtown Minneapolis. As noted in the poem, downtown Minneapolis walkways have no public services or restrooms — and few (if any) restrooms inside stores. This infuriating tactic prevents people from using these walkways as shelters.

 

 

 

Listen as Tarik Dobbs reads "Skybridge Rendering Above Minneapolis & the West Bank."
Added: Friday, May 29, 2020  /  Used with permission.
Tarik Dobbs
Photo by Dan Marshall for MIZNA.

Tarik Dobbs is an Arab American queer writer born in Dearborn, MI. Their poems are forthcoming in American Poetry Review, AGNI Magazine, & MIZNA. They are winner of the 2020 Peseroff Prize.

Other poems by this author

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