Manhattan

Manhattan

Blackened hands tear apart packets
Of sugar before heavy fists knock
It from your hands and onto the ground
Like a sprinkling of cocaine dust that
The addict will follow, a drug crazed
Hansel and Gretel on the trail of the
Next dealer. The tongue is incinerated
At the factory where everyone’s dreams
Turn into ashes. Under the highways
Rusting arches a bum lights the cars
On fire for warmth and has a dialogue
With the engine parts, the leaking
Burning gasoline, seagulls overheard
Preparing to scavenge what is left
Of you when injuries bludgeon and
You can no longer hail passing cars.
Giant monarch butterflies are listening
To your ghost stories hanging off the edge
Of rusted garbage cans as your various
Homeless brethren congregate and are
Reminded that there was something before
This, perhaps, entirely different: librarians,
Street vendors, hustlers who tire of the chase,
Warning the night of its inertias, no more retaliation
Or parts in disrepair placed on the disabled list
Where before there were suits and briefcases,
Secretaries, who knew where and when you
Were traveling, not necessarily when you’d be
Returning, or if you were dead or alive until
There was no sign of you or no calls from the
Other side of the concrete island

by Micah Zevin 2009

one of the poems read at my recent Kiva Cafe Reading
see a post below for the video link.