ManicDDaily

NYC (But not actually Park Avenue but Empire State Building seen from Hudson)

Dead Zone

His name still on my cellphone, cool air
on flexed wrist, Park Avenue bordering
on indigo eventide; press
key that rings up just
my mom now.

Helmsley Palace (ahead) wears
lit stories like a
tiara.  Hi sweetie,
she says as brightly, then launches (after and how
are you) into the letter she got today from
guess who.

Happiness pairs with despair as I wonder who actually
got down to write her as I had meant to, who else would know
his birthday (the first he’s ever missed). An irritatingly-
organized cousin comes
to mind.

The President, she gloats (so, not cousin)–siren
morphs to moan a few blocks distant–you know I’ve
never gotten a letter from a president before, not
in my whole life. 

Curb shapes huge cobbles–my father
in two wars–picture
a foamed stein with
floating sun–dawn hike in Czechlosovakia,
issued for breakfast, later, beer, each
with raw egg–

Deep step onto tar, and
even as I know, this being NYC, that all the shadows
wearing black are not
in mourning: he wants
you to send him some money, I tell
her.

Yes, she laughs, it said
‘do not bend,’ right on the envelope.

I know she hasn’t forgotten this date, just today’s–
so many red finned limos, trucks, I have to cross
in angles.

I want to whisper, Mom, you know it’s April 25th, then
imagine her voice scraping the top of something
or bottom, once she remembers, and how, after
she has descended into sadness, I
would comfort her; how, after making her
feel bad, I’d make her
feel better—the Metlife passage huge with
sheen and shine, blocks of transluscent
air/glass/linoleum–

Deep into that gloss, a warble
of politics and donations,
I’ll probably lose you soon, I say,  
just as I always do when I get to about that spot–

**************************************************

Twenty-fith draft poem of sorts for National Poetry Month.  Agh. My initial posting of it a bit confusing, but I’ve edited it now.  (So I hope it reads better.)

I am linking this one to Real Toads, which had an “Ella’s Edge” prompt about writing an “Inside Outside Poem” one that moves in concentric circles.   I’m not sure that I quite understood the prompt – but there you have it.  This poem was also inspired by the very different and much more uplifting poem of Lady Nyo’s about the anniversary of the birth of her father’s birthday.