Burned out, abandoned with warnings that exhale
on the stern facade. One letter per pane, tagger’s red
paint spells it out for me:
E L E V A T O R
S H A F T
D O N O T
E N T E R Never mind
the barbed wire fence, I
wasn’t planning to make that leap. The clock
on that shuttered Romanian community center across
the street reminds me
it’s 5:45 pm
same as last fall and the visit before that. Still there will be
more stairs to climb.
I am the impulse
to give
you that book. I am
the melancholy
stirring within
as I study a 19th-century
façade that’s lost
its building
on East 12th. I am the joy
of hearing a childhood
friend’s laughter
still ring the same
in my ears pressed
against sea shells
we picked up
on our way to discovering
that one perfectly rubbed
piece of sea glass. I am
the desire to walk
up and down city
sidewalks at home
and the resignation
that these are visitor
steps. Here I am
all shadow over stones
ghosted away
and ready to reappear.
Night & Day Poems of Amy Nash 