Susan Aizenberg

(United States)

Susan Aizenberg Poems

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Best Poem of Susan Aizenberg

Spring 1963

Back home from three years' monastery life, working
in Europe, he's in love with these pacific Heights
and genteel streets named for fruit trees that could
never grow here, with Willow Street, especially,

the yellow house where he lives with Jack,
where each dawn they hear—amazing! — a cock crow
from some neighboring yard. Mornings he walks
the Esplanade above the docks and the traffic

seething below towards the city, the tall dazzle
of its skyline a jagged, brilliant rising from the East
River. He notes the flower man with his archaic
dull horse and ...

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