Lee Plaza Hotel, Detroit
The floors crackle underfoot with each step onto particles
of wall and ceiling concealing much of what was flooring.
Each breath tastes of lead paint dust. Curtains cling
to rubble on the floor like shrouds covering bodies
except not even the dead are found here. Old chairs,
their upholstery gnawed by time, their insides gushing out
from wounds. Personal artifacts left behind. A television
plugged into an outlet no longer attached to the grid.
Murals of water stain appear overhead;
signed by neglect, utilizing the ceiling as medium.
Michael Allyn Wells