Thursday, December 4, 2014

New York City haiku, vol. 4

More haiku from Gotham, with apologies to William Carlos Williams for (guess which) one. Also two of these rise from a new strain about people we’ve met.

Atop the cold city
spikes of light meet dead of night,
heaven’s icicles.

Magda fled Poland
the day the Nazis came. Why?
‘Dad read newspapers.’

Climbed the subway stair
at Times Square. Looked right, then left.
This way east, no, west.

Everything depends
on a red boat in dawn’s mist
on the blue Hudson.

Roman busts a bore?
No, no! She looked, took names, shook
old Rome back to life.

Even here, where race
matters least, eye avoided eye
after Ferguson.

No comments:

Post a Comment