And then

Friday night,
still got my coat on.

And my scarf.
The lamp in the living room.
The street lights.

My computer.
The fridge,
hum.
Phone blinks.

Does the lower east side ever
turn off?

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About amyleighcutler

Writer, dancer, vagabond extraordinaire
This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to And then

  1. kvennarad says:

    There are times when I have left my house and walked deliberately into the woods nearby (scene of two body-dumps following murders). My goal has been to find a spot where the trees shield me from sound and light, and where I can look up and see stars. If I look long enough, I could swear that they have moved. Then I notice that a meteor passes, or a satellite, or a plane, and I think even the universe is never on less than tickover, let alone the human world.

    Poem much appreciated, thank you.

    M
    _______
    Marie Marshall
    writer/poet/editor/blogger
    Scotland
    http://mairibheag.com
    http://kvennarad.wordpress.com

  2. S.W. May says:

    I love this. These tiny moments are so intimate, like a close conversation with a sibling in a dark vacant dining room. But they must be captured just right, and you have.

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