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thehinterlandonline:thecactusland:anthony_gerace
sideways
slanted sidewalks*
the sun is hitting sides of buildings
ceremoniously and without passion
and the light is refracted a hundred times
to the sides of other buildings
in the corridor of the city in morning light.
there, though, without the light shining
off of the sides of buildings
the robins and the sparrows and the jays
couldn't see which way they were going
couldn't find their way home to nests,
but all that's seen is concrete splattered
and sidewalks in the shade.
but the city sidewalks float, at least
that's the way it seems sometime
they're all just slanted in the sun
as the business men trundle to their
awful destinations where ties and suits
are criticized by their worker brethren,
climbing over each other
to make the money.
the bench is without light, the sun
has set and the corridor fills with wind;
bay is dark and now they trundle
back out of the high-rise scraping sky buildings
where the meeting was their destination
and the soft green was their goal;
the ultimate prize.
it won't be too long
until the world is sucked in.
sonnet #1
on the coast:
what once seemed like days
has turned into hours
to minutes to nothing:
we say goodbye
without looking back.
in the city:
the snow piles up
along the cracked concrete streets,
the banks are far too high;
I trudge along
without any trust in my streps.
what happened to you and I back there
was something we'll never say again.
sonnet #2
I've been gone far too long
to care about why I've been gone
to thinnk about what might happen
to wonder when I'll ever come home.
was I loved, was I,
I wonder,
if I hadn't left where would I be
if I hadn't left would I be closer?
at home and abroad I can't see straight,
my tongue feels tied in knots:
and the reason I left eludes me
every time I try and get close.
and nowin the seedy backwater gas station
I look at the clock on the wall and wonder why.
all
poems copyright 2000 anthony gerace [reprint only with author's consent]
