I’m going to start
wearing a money
belt to pretend
I’m traveling
in a foreign
country. Wide enough
to hold
a passport
and a spleen
in case mine needs
to be removed.
I would keep it
so I could still vent.
No one will accuse me
of being passive
aggressive. Where am I
going tonight?
Saint Paul. You never know.
Will have to cross
the Mississippi, you know.
Maybe, you don’t.
The S slipped
or becomes
silent a month before
the Green Line begins
service between the two
cities. Crosses the river
in light rail stitching.
She saw the test train return
to the larger downtown
this morning. Her faith
in imperfection runs
parallel to
coincidence and letters
that sometimes drop
off without warning.
No more
excuses left—
Saint Paul here she comes now
riding the Green Line LRT
at last.
PUBLICATION READING
SubText Bookstore, 165 Western Avenue No., St. Paul, MN
7 PM., Saturday, November 9th, 2013
FREE & OPEN TO THE PUBLIC
Poetry, essays about Home
Featured readers include Jill Breckenridge, Tami Mohamed Brown, Wendy Brown-Baez, James Cihlar, Alice Owen Duggan, Margaret Hasse, Molly Sutton Kiefer, Linda Kantner, Julie Landsman, Amy Nash, Ellen Shriner, Cary Waterman, Karen Herseth Wee, Miriam Weinstein
Night & Day Poems of Amy Nash 