I saw the Brooklyn Bridge
from my window, then
walked the narrow streets
to a small park
all the days from then until now
the years whooshed
into memories
of a distant long ago.
On the street below the trash is heaped
and compacted as if a stage set.
The narrator comes out and sits
in the director’s chair.
He speaks this eulogy:
“We are gathered here today
to pay homage to what is left -
the best and most expensive of a civilization -
compacted into these stately black bags.”
It’s a reflection of a peaceful time to come
at home in the refuge
of a wayward empire.
The view from 21B fades
as I drift into sleep,
a symphony of amber lights
in a sleepless city. Today,
like yesterday, fades to black
never to end
never to be again
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem