Everything changes
when tracks get laid
down to boulevard
the street. No heavy
rail in these towns. How many
American cities go underground
to move? Above, on, or
below—I will ride
out the need
to be destined.
Chicago
North Clark Street
An old fireplace mantle painted emergency
orange. Maps folded wrong
on purpose into paper
airplanes—a fleet of them landed
between the stems
of a candelabra. One green leaf
on a plate on a wooden floor beside a floor
lamp. Clouds stenciled on the ceiling. A tiny red
TV from the late 60s on the mantle
painted emergency
orange. And repeat.
Night & Day Poems of Amy Nash 