Heavy Lid

I tripped on the lip of the sewer today,

my boot catching iron while I looked at a screen.

It’s a hundred-pound seal to keep the rot away,

a rusted geometric plate for the world unseen.

The word CITY is cast in the center of the grain,

bolted to the street so the ground won't heave.

It holds back the dark and it holds back the rain,

and all the heavy secrets we're too tired to leave.