six evenings in your city

1.

six pigeons silhouetted

on the parapet in a row

flanked at the end

by a very black crow

2.

in a starched cover that’s yellowed with age

the pillow is lumpy, an old spare for guests

the sheets too, though clean, smell of mothballs

but at least for tonight i have a bed

3.

i often suddenly remember whatever it was

that i was looking up, when i’m almost at the page

i believed that i’d forgotten what you looked like

but waiting here, now, i clearly see your face

4.

he hammers loose the metal plates

from the pillars, now solid concrete

he swings his arm in a loose arc and

finds the rhythm of my heartbeat

5.

visiting the city after years, your city

it seems both familiar, and distant

the names of the stops are like long lost possessions

unearthed at the back of the last drawer of the closet

6.

the train tears my heart away

from your city once again, while my mind is cast

upon things that can’t be undone or unmade

like love lost and times past