Poetry
BOTH WAYS
a.) this
Quarter to three
the day off DON’T
WALK
light stops me
at ‘lantic abnya
bound downtown
to pay the bills
and get enchanted
ah, the loveliness’
May afternoon full of
spring’s fuzzy balm
sun’s lazy versions of
peace, honest lover, she
gave me this shirt
oxfordcloth cottonmost
comfortable sleeve
for such a day, graced
with having survived
unlike, I’m thinking
various victims, even
springtime voracious
classmates, jazzfolk
poets hanging from the trees
so lucky, I’m thinking
to be a poet standing
on two feet, respiring
peacefully at gaze upon
the easterly horizon
b.) that
so blithe and so,
WHOOSH
from the west, in the flood
of traffic, steel estuary
noisy and gassy, a city
but passant, clearance of
let’s say six inches
oblivious to me
As I to it, and
of course, I see
at once the absent-
minded quarter-turn
of my frame as sure-
ly as feel the im-
pact on the fine blouse
several crunching tons
of momentum at the spit-
second to feel anything
chordate mammalian splat
and then, of course, but now
how now, old Brooklyn
still, and she moves with a grin toward three
thus the gentler
completion of a few
errands on a gorgeous
also this time
merciful day.
Contributor
Ralph MartinRALPH MARTIN is a poet and contributor to the Brooklyn Rail.
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