Only One Requirement

This is a joy that must be sung about –
this thing that floods you in a rush
of sensually brilliant winter urban light –
you sit here knowing that the night
will consummate the day and that the day
has consummated night and frankly,
everything is consummation. One wonders –
can one say these things and be believed? –

or, more: thereby retrieve capacities for life
in you and him and her and them and those
and these – gone, to come or here already?
There must be some way to hold steady
while you crow about this happiness –
without descending into sappiness:
express the sentiment, without the ‘ality’ –
reality, without the cynical reprise.

There must be some way to let you and him
and her and them and those and these
into this leavened heaven of a state of soul.
To beckon everyone to eat from
this great plate, deep bowl, provide them
each with proper holy golden knife
and spoon and fork. There’s only one
requirement: be besotted with New York.

.