Corten Steel
Our bridges are rusty before they are even open,
Clad in their ugliness –
They’re streaked and they’re stained with their spreadsheeted arrogance,
Shrugging with couldn’t-care-less.
So Brutalism continues its groping
In withered and leery undress,
With its surfaces tarnished and slumming advanced,
As it flakes and exudes under stress.
They really don’t look very sturdy to cope,
Whatever their builders declare –
With their rough-shod matt-faced blunt expanse
Whose corrosion hangs in the air.
They will fail. But not because of their scope,
But because of the vision they share –
For the mind that puts rust over art and romance
Will decide obsolescence is fair.
Rhyming Couplets 