624: Haskell Avenue
"Haskell Avenue"
Virginia Tamez
the dampening effect is working its lackluster magic
on this speckled pavement, on a gray sky that is cookie-cut into
teardrops through these arches,
on lovestruck squirrels who lack a healthy fear of traffic,
on delicate petals that remind me of the silk scarf that I
bought in Atlanta, the one that caught on a brick and ripped.
a rush of this cool specter, gray as it falls as if through a
maze, drifts to me and cools me where I sit sheltered and
sequestered on the steps of a church that is not mine and watch
rain turn the streets into slick pewter
water filling the heart-bracketed "Luther + Tambra For Life" that
is engraved in the cement (those kinds of names are fitting for
this kind of city), and I smell screeching drills, and I
hear utter wet, utter cold, dripping flowers
the church doors are chipped, and (as it turns out) locked. out
here, I have all the shadows and pale light I could ever need.
Virginia Tamez
the dampening effect is working its lackluster magic
on this speckled pavement, on a gray sky that is cookie-cut into
teardrops through these arches,
on lovestruck squirrels who lack a healthy fear of traffic,
on delicate petals that remind me of the silk scarf that I
bought in Atlanta, the one that caught on a brick and ripped.
a rush of this cool specter, gray as it falls as if through a
maze, drifts to me and cools me where I sit sheltered and
sequestered on the steps of a church that is not mine and watch
rain turn the streets into slick pewter
water filling the heart-bracketed "Luther + Tambra For Life" that
is engraved in the cement (those kinds of names are fitting for
this kind of city), and I smell screeching drills, and I
hear utter wet, utter cold, dripping flowers
the church doors are chipped, and (as it turns out) locked. out
here, I have all the shadows and pale light I could ever need.