poetry critical

online poetry workshop

To Be Gone

the bridge
and the city through the arches
some engineers up-lit masterpiece
the black blood of the serpentine
running fast
in the park
the homeless eye me over
the geese turn their backs, and shit, and pull up shoots of grass
the ducks on the river swim by in pairs
if I fed them they’d let me name them
Luis and Desdemona
until they'd eaten all the scraps
thing is
I’m so tired of walking by this river
I could hail a cab, and disappear, and never come back
all of it
means nothing anymore.

15 Apr 19

(define the words in this poem)

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