I
All night
The rain's been making rivers
drowning men in
schyulkyll
passyunk
moyamensing
conshohocken
streets that were
people who shouted
like the staggering man
shirtless muscle yelling
"aaagggh" and "aaaaaaagh"
feet pounding concrete to let the earth know
he is coming and his voice
intent
but still
he falls face down on Washington
shirt in hand
the water rising fast
perhaps that's why
the cops won't stop their boats for him
but sail on
as he resumes his lurching run
south Broad, he leans on
trashbins
cars
lamposts sometimes
the sidewalk
and a man across the river sits
arms on his knees
below the bus stop sign
and
speculates
"maybe drugs"
he owns the grocery
he points
today a woman entered
"crazy"
bared her breasts
for everyone to see
he shakes his head
the runner's in a push up stance
but trying not to fall
on his left arm
a plastic band is white
with lamps
and the moon full searchlight - will it find him
under
racing clouds
like they have somewhere to be.
He'll charge as far as Tasker
then
who knows
II
the water's seeped
into my shoes
the socks are extra skin
and now
my pulse
is in my shirt
shoelaces
and shirt buttons
are prison bars
in the frenzy to strip
clinging pants
t-shirt
briefs
I
hurl them from my bed
the wall keeps them too close
it's not enough
with only skin
i'm still
not near as naked
as I need to be
III
he shouted "cuz", "hey cuz"
and wanted dollars
coins
whatever
he had walked
he said, from the Northeast
and his trashbag armour
reflected everything
IV
I bent
in the light of passing cabs
to tie my shoe
remembering
the desperate importance
that my shoe be tied
by father,
for me
while I watched.
but that was day
and he had darker hair
and i was not so haunted
that the river would seem inviting
when the rain had made it wide
and dark and full of secret
things
V
sometimes
cabs will slow
and honk
"Teruah" blasts
all night
at 24th and south
the residents
of that corner apartment
hear
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
and know who's coming from the bridge
VI
"Manayunk": The roaring water.
all the rivers high, this year.
This wet september, with the hidden sun.
And west to east: the pines; the cedar bogs; the beaches
with long grass, pipers, crabs; the tiding sea
our sea, our salty sea
waves singing to the sky
that saw the boats that brought us
dry to shore
No comments:
Post a Comment