MayDay Night Lower Manhattan
MayDay Night Lower Manhattan
Helicopters strap the sky here as
the President speaks from Afghanistan, of
the deaths that laid
their ash a block from where I sit and so
many more since.
Earnestness
in the half-shadows below his
eyes, and I wish hard
for time to pass, to get, fast, to whatever
date he speaks of–that date that date that date
while copters buzz-saw the night, weedwhacking
lamplit peace, and I wonder
whether they are on the look-out for
terrorists or 99 percenters?
Nearly every wall here bordering Wall, so is it
retribution or redistribution that
they target?
I don’t know, only that
the endless tomtom (blades blades blades blades)
triggers a quiver in my innards, and I feel
thwap thwap
histrionic, yes, still
buzz
like a woman whose husband–New York–
has beaten her enough that
she listens hard now
for his return, any love left pleated
with dread.
Is his step heavy on the stairs? Is his lurch hard? Goddammit
they are really coming
close—
though what she mainly hears is her own
strained breath, her hovering heart, each
swallow.
****************************************
Agh! A new poem written for dVerse Poets Open Link Night, hosted by Natasha Head (Tashtoo), under surveillance of endless helicopters down here in Lower Manhattan (even as I hope that Obama’s speech means we are moving closer to some kind of negotiated peace in Afghanistan.)
Explore posts in the same categories: New York City, poetry, UncategorizedTags: 9/11 post trauma poem, helicopters in lower manhattan, lower Manhattanite's fear poem, manicddaily, Mayday night lower Manhattan, will it never end?
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ManicDDaily 
May 1, 2012 at 10:10 pm
I had no idea the helicopters hovered endlessly “on patrol”. That brought a reality to this poem and the heavy footsteps on the stair… I feel the dread of this poem, the tired questioning, wondering…
May 1, 2012 at 10:11 pm
They don’t do it all the time – though it isn’t that uncommon–but they are really on the rampage tonight. I am not quite sure why. I’ve gotten to really hate it though. k.
May 1, 2012 at 10:29 pm
like a woman whose husband–New York–
has beaten her enough that
she listens hard now
for his return, any love left pleated
with dread.
dang what a description…and hey at least you were able to turn it into poetry right…hope they chill out a bit…and you get some rest…are tehy looking for the 99 %…wont be hard to hit you know…smiles…
peace k
May 1, 2012 at 10:38 pm
Yes–you know when they were kicking them out of Zucotti Park they had just tons of helicopters, but usually it’s a terrorist thing. Who knows? Crazy though; they are still going full bore. Thanks though. k.
May 1, 2012 at 11:27 pm
ok..that sounds quite scary.. living where america’s heartbeat is loudest and where the world has their eyes has not only advantages i guess…still…you know…i miss new york madly some days…
love those lines esp… like a woman whose husband–New York–
has beaten her enough that
she listens hard now
for his return
May 1, 2012 at 11:37 pm
I hope it isn’t about Occupy Wall Street–twitter is projecting some unease about what’s going on there. I guess Oakland and some other places have had a lot of violence. I’m glad to know the president is talking about getting out of Afghanistan, but it seems like forever, with nothing whatsoever constructive going on there–This is an excellent if difficult piece– felt almost like an anxiety attack, K, thinking myself in your place…waiting listening, not knowing…that analogy to the abusive spouse! Really reminded me about my fear of cities. Hope all works out okay there and no one is hurt or messed up on the streets.
May 2, 2012 at 3:19 am
This poem just knocked me sideways. For me it has everything it needs to have to do what I believe you intended it to do..(And the image is damned good as well.)
May 2, 2012 at 9:15 am
Hi there,
I enjoy reading your poems; they’re wonderful. Keep penning and inspiring, my friend! 🙂
As my ride in your blogging has been enjoyable, I now would like to invite you to visit mine. Hopefully you will have a joyful ride there! Thank you and have a lovely day my friend! 🙂
Subhan Zein
May 2, 2012 at 10:08 am
“any love left pleated with dread”…wow, K…that is a pure poetic statement~
This whole poem had me sucked in from the start, on the edge of my chair, and damn….that ‘weedwacking lamplit peace’ is another ‘moment.’
Brava! I too, wish we would just pull the hell out…and attend our noses to home.
Good, excellent poem.
Lady Nyo
May 2, 2012 at 11:45 am
I have only been to NYC three times but I was immediately transported there through your excellent work. We used to live in a large city right next to the hospitals, TV and police stations so the helicopters and the accompanying anxiety I identify with clearly.
May 2, 2012 at 12:10 pm
Thanks, Anna. I have to confess that my only true worry in NYC has been/is terrorism. I’ve been burglarized a few times in all the years, but have rarely felt personally unsafe in terms of street crime, etc, I only get worried about BIG things. Of course, I know that puts me in a pretty lucky position. k.
May 2, 2012 at 12:28 pm
Very tough write.
” is it
retribution or redistribution that
they target?”
Brilliant.
May 2, 2012 at 6:03 pm
I have lived in many big cities, amidst the helicopters and the police sirens and sounds of demonstrations, and your poem transported me back to those days. Not much has changed, has it. Unrest is always met with similar strategies.
May 2, 2012 at 6:10 pm
Thanks, Sam. I grew up in D.C. with formative years in the sixties so I am not so freaked out by unrest. It’s the idea of terrorism that worries me frankly. That said, I took a lot of photos etc in Zuccotti Park the morning after the police cleared the park and of course that was pretty crazy (and shaking.)
May 2, 2012 at 6:49 pm
Very powerful and evocative imagery.
Also reminded me of Robert Duvall in Apocalypse Now, “Some day this war’s gonna end.”
And that’s all we know.
May 2, 2012 at 6:51 pm
Too true. K.
May 2, 2012 at 8:56 pm
A great capture, Karin. Powerful and well penned.
May 2, 2012 at 9:51 pm
Thanks,Ayala.
May 2, 2012 at 9:01 pm
Karin, amazing poem about a subject that just never makes it to consciousness anymore. And you should know the desire for vengeance, living as so close to WTC as youndid, yet your conscience and the way it’s repelled by what vengeance has done is so powerful, so pure compared to the blood shed far awar.
like a woman whose husband–New York–
has beaten her enough that
she listens hard now
for his return, any love left pleated
with dread.
Amazing metaphor… shocking, horrifying, like the injustice done in faraway lands. Thank you for such a brave poem, told so authentically and filled with reality.
May 2, 2012 at 9:50 pm
Thanks so much, Charles. k.
May 2, 2012 at 9:03 pm
An intense, powerful poem, Karin–
wish hard
for time to pass, to get, fast, to whatever
date he speaks of–that date that date that date
while copters buzz-saw the night, weedwhacking
lamplit peace,
You give us quite the moment of synchronicity– in that city that is dangerous to love and loves back dangerously– I’m still uncertain of whether we negotiated anything– perhaps clarified and pepped up the troops– I am one of the ones who thinks we should pack up and leave and let the country sort itself out without our so-called help…xxxxj
May 2, 2012 at 9:50 pm
Yes, agreed. I think the idea of the negotiations though is a way to ease out. Hope so anyway. Have family in military. K.
May 3, 2012 at 9:54 am
I had planned and went forward with my trip from Texas to the Northeast with four days planned in NYC leaving on 9/11/01. We arrived in a rent car five days after the attack.
The way you describe this was the mood and anxiety we drove into. But New York was so altered and so great. It was the worst of times and the best of times. I saw America in a way and time that was unique – we carried on to Canada and I saw a country that painted bedsheets and put them on their rooftops to proclaim their unity with the US. I have heard stories of how it affected the world but most of all I remember sitting in Sardi’s for lunch hearing the personal stories of Manhattanites and will always remember their courage, their fierceness, and their special patriotism. It is still good to be an American when we have neighbors as strong as all of you.
May 3, 2012 at 11:17 am
Very brave of you, Gay. It was a pretty crazy time; very very sad. Of course, there as a unity in that, but it was really overwhelmed by the sadness. I did not live quite as far downtown then, but very close and my daughter went to school about three blocks from Ground Zero. Her school became one of the main staging areas for search and clean-up afterwards. But it all gets very tiring at this point. A lot of New Yorkers probably put it out of their mind, but I live right next to the site right now and there seems to be endless security here. I thought this the other day might have to do with OWS which was also down here, but there continue to be special guards with automatic weapons etc at Ground Zero, which is a bit unusual, so there must be some particularly concern. It may relate to a guy they just convicted in Brooklyn of wanting to bomb the subway, who knows–
May 3, 2012 at 11:17 am
Ps – thanks for your kind comment!
May 3, 2012 at 9:55 am
Wherever it may be a conflict brings horrors. True enough K! We, all of us would like to see the conclusion of bloodshed.We talk of peace, we yearn for peace, but there is a lot of hypocrisy. Pity we’ve to dice with human lives. Great write!
Hank
May 3, 2012 at 11:18 am
Thanks so much, Hank. k.
May 3, 2012 at 11:30 pm
‘each swallow’
what a striking way to get to this point..the helicopters spin and join the military, the economic, the state… real sense of threat for the individual in this piece.
It unfolds wonderfully, so well managed. Thank you.