Thursday, February 25, 2010

Watch How You Fold That Crayon

I want something really vast and soft
and radiant and dazzling to lift you into
the day so that you feel a real sense of panic
start to recede. There will be gorgeous spiders
and bits of blue skin and something really
sweet like peach pie and honey and pomegranate
jam and stuff like that. Huge flakes of snow
won't piss you off like they do me when you
walk in the field in Prospect Park someone
is there won't you watch them watch you
walk to me? Won't all the days you thought
would never end finally end and become
planted in your memory? A shark never
stops moving, not even for you, so why should
you stop getting jacked up before bed, if not for me?
The city is all moist and expectant
like my hand on your cheek as you sleep,
I certainly hope so.

3 Comments:

Blogger Sarah said...

I really love this poem. Thank you.

9:50 AM  
Blogger Hannah Miet said...

Looking out the window, it feels like it has always been snowing and it will never end.

I felt the same way about the rain yesterday.

I can't feel angry at the flakes; just ambivalent. Buried into ambivalence.

But I see the same expectancy in streets, and that's just the word for it.

Maybe it won't snow forever, after all.

1:36 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Yum.

1:48 PM  

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