Near Apocalypse
I woke up in New York City
and it was deserted
a lone woman surfaces after months
her sweetness verified by salt
my Hebrew arrogance
washed down a gutter by dirt
we embrace in fear and anger
warm like broken bricks
the sea splashing against a street
subway submerged in wonder
the grasses like us
grow with no names
posted by RC @ 11:49 AM
3 Comments:
Bien dicho. Why do I like your poetry? Because you write of the ordinary in a very unique style. I am very proud of a Chicano who writes in the manner you do.
Esmeralda Bernal
the grasses like us
grow with no names
wow--
lovely
Thanks,Esmeralda,your comments are always appreciated.
And,thank you,Sheryl,hope your job search is successful very soon.I visit your blog every day.
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