Two Little Poems

Belfry

I know the robed wide woman dark on neighbor balcony –
the one who looks up at nothing then down at the pub –
laughs when the handrail is too fast for the escalator
when she finds herself, after a flight, slightly leaning.

Tea

Some things are made to take heat, this tea pot for example
Made not to warp or melt but to hold water over fire.
Does she hate, I wonder, to whistle? Or worse-
Will she whistle herself quiet?

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Hello City

How long have you been this way?
White-flaked vines spill out your windows like you’re a summer city
You haven’t fooled me but I’m smiling
It’s like your brick was made for these sunsets
Orange on brick on windows shining in the eye of your
Old friends across the way. Won’t you show me home?

You’re a city that holds on hard. Your white front doors
Your black door numbers beat like a tap like all the ladies
In their newness and their tapping and their beauty
You’re a city with rats and top hats. You’re a city
That people want to know. That people do know as
You breathe new faces into your ribs and breathe out,
Gently unchanged washed clean. You’re a city I cannot know.

Funny city. You make me think that this is your belly
This may be the nature of the beast but it is a beast
White and clean and claiming that you are only like this
Such a pretty city has firecrackers has daddy issues
Has rigid rules has soft music has held breath and breath
Let go

Gentle city. I am lost in you. And unconcerned perhaps
I stumble over your groundswells that you’ve
Stopped noticing. Though isn’t it my way to find me
Always in swollen cities? Hello city.
Let me breathe with you in this light.