Writing Late on a Winter Night


Photo: literophanes.com



Words like flurries dust the December ground,

Unsettled only by the blades of ice skaters in the park.

A lone plastic holly berry sits at the bottom of subway stairs

Before the F train that carries riders in Santa suits.


Artificial firs aglow in high rise windows.

Colored bulbs adorn fire escapes.

Ornamented garland drapes the railings of brownstones.

A hanging star flashes from a sublevel apartment window.


Above the graffiti patchwork covering the heights,

The aged sky is hushed with sweet bakery smells.

No echoes of horns, or sirens, or protesting voices

Fall with the flurries.


Inside the dog is asleep on an uneven floor,

Undisturbed by the banging of pipes

Or midnight words that fall from my fingers on keys

As I write sipping apple brandy and bitters.


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