Poem for an Empty Lot
The empty lot was cleared overnight,
I'd imagined running by it this summer.
The things I miss most are the things
I never had, like a hug from you any
night I wanted it, non-furtive soup.
Cats stalked and peed in that lot - such
green, the smell of green all summer
long - and one by one they've been
taken in, cleverly whisked off the
streets by strategically placed cans
of food. A few still haunt, casting
longingly at doors. The rest scent
unfurling leaves and feel wild again.
If you were here, I'd take you running
to the place where you can almost
touch Manhattan. I'd ask for something
blessedly ordinary, like Wednesday night.
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1 comment:
if i were there with you, i would try to hear the beating of your heart, i would listen to you read your poems and i would walk by your side, knowing i was in the presence of an angel
if i were there with you, we would look for the territory of rain and, once found, dance within its borders
if i were there with you, i would look for graffiti and once found, commit it to memory, for it is abundance and heartache and it is there for the looking............
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