Thursday, September 10, 2009

On the Eve

Clouds are
thieving,
weaving in

over Manhattan –
stealing bits
of sun

and spitting them
into the gutter –
tethered by

September’s
sibilant inclement
weather –

hissing muggy
through the leaves
as if to mock

whatever grieves.
The city’s
on the eve

of the eleventh.
Nothing rhymes
with that.






.

No comments: