Monday, July 26, 2010
The City, Berobed in Blue
Painting by Gregory Dolnikowski
The City, Berobed in Blue
What do you think has come over me?
I did not feel like this yesterday
but today, all I find myself thinking is,
This could be my last apartment,
my last lover; this could be the last dog
I ever own—as if I were going to die
at any moment. Which of course
is possible (myocardial infarction,
genetic defect, lighting bolt)
The anxiety may pass, but not
the age. Yikes, every moment says
And then, Look out!
Well, what can be done but put
a good face on it? A big one,
round as a moon and glittering
to the last. Or maybe slide into
an om state, where nothing is
something and everything is
more or less of something else
Better yet, maybe it's time to think
about the city, berobed in blue,
which now appears to me in memory
as a good place for a young girl,
who only I can recognize
See how lightly she steps off into
another, and then another morning
And as if she has never done it before,
begins to breathe
Eleanor Lerman
Posted over on The Writer's Almanac
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