Sandy Poem (In the Midst Of )
Do you leave the windows open
(against a vacuum)
or closed (against
wet roar)?
Curtains? Thin but, if pulled,
the mayor tells us, might catch
glass
shards.
Still cake
has just been made; life
lets us eat it.
A rich cake, moist (though in this warped/wet
night, it feels somehow
dry too, yellow straight-edged
wedges able to keep
their shape
like sanity, sun). We’ve left
the windows
open–small apartment
needing air – and for a while it’s the images
from the computer sweep
us, floods
fled, though every now
and again and now and
now
the here/now wind
shakes with
scream-edged
harshness
everything, unsettling
that sliver of sweetness that sits
so light upon my
stomach, that extra pinch
of crumbs I sneaked
as part of
my serving, dumb
undeserved
luck.
*************************
Trying to pass time in storm – I am the kind of suggestive person whose stomach gets more than butterflies. Agh. So here’s kind of a poem. So worried about my City right now – complain about it plenty, but hate to see it down.
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