From California, to the New York Islands

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

Submitted: May 21, 2020

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Submitted: May 21, 2020

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From California, to the New York Islands

 

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.


© Copyright 2020 Stellanotte. All rights reserved.

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