The window's smeared,
a greasy faceprint
marking the spot where
an urchin was stymied
in his attempt to touch
the city,
or a lover
bowed her head, resigned
disbelief creating
distance where no space
existed heretofore.
It's hard to see beyond
the smudge, though
rivers and graffiti
and tall grass beckon,
with so much at stake
in the foreground.
4.20.2012
trenton makes, the world takes
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perfect placement of the last line
ReplyDeleteI like how the second and third stanza scream despair. while is was dark and sad, the writing was gorgeous. I loved it.
this one reminds me of the one with the little car and the parking lot in the city. gritty and urban and sad.
ReplyDeleteokay, i'm glad i asked you what this comment means because i really thought it was a reference to a Virginia Lee Burton book. but i'm all flattered that you're referring back to my older work! hee!
DeleteOh Wow! This is an amazing poem, Marian. Here is the voice of the urban poet, who sees beyond the environment to the lives that try to adapt to its impersonality.
ReplyDeletethank you, friends. i have a small sub-genre of train poetry.
ReplyDeletewhat a great mood in these lines,... looking forward to more!
ReplyDeleteI absolutely love this poem! Thank you!
ReplyDeletegosh, thank you!
ReplyDeletethe title of this poem is the message on an enormous sign on a bridge, visible from the train as you enter Trenton, New Jersey.
ReplyDelete