From California, to the New York Islands

Reads: 377  | Likes: 4  | Shelves: 1  | Comments: 1

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

I wrote this poem about the New York Islands, which have been used as graveyards in the past and sadly again during the Covid19 pandemic.

 

 

Salty the currents where the silversides run,

East River bodega bass tunnel tailing,

The air drier, torch and all.

 

The birds, ever the protestors,

And in particular the cormorants,

Now nest in the left-overs.

 

Names never fixed, always depending,

No longer yours, perceived as payment.

Some kind of sharing or a giant apology.

 

Rebranded, abandoned requirements,

Twice a tide-shift showcase,

A harbor sleeper graveyard.

 

It was the largest Little Hells Gate,

But that’s just building over the marsh,

Not a human explosion.

 

Ready your scows, young rats,

As we, the statues, the islands,

Prepare our same mistakes.

 

 

 

 


Submitted: May 21, 2020

© Copyright 2021 Stellanotte. All rights reserved.

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Add Your Comments:

Comments

Criss Sole

Lovely poem.

Sat, May 23rd, 2020 6:36am

Stellanotte

Oh dear, I accidentally deleted an annotation on the poem, I'm sorry! I didn't know what it was!

Mon, December 21st, 2020 7:09pm

J. Arthur Black

This has feeling. I can dig it. Life seems to be a lot of a making of the same mistakes

Sat, January 16th, 2021 3:24pm

Author
Reply

That's very true, sadly. Thanks for reading it. I like your poems and respect your opinion.

Sat, January 16th, 2021 11:48am

Facebook Comments

Other Content by Stellanotte

Book / Fantasy

Book / Fantasy

Book / Fantasy