Greenpoint

February 12th, 2015 § 0 comments

 

I visit greenpoint at night

when life has rearranged itself

playthings after you leave the room

 

people, pocketed + bagless, rafts

along the Amazon

 

storefronts, the forest leaning

back, whispering thick escape

 

in greenpoint, there are spectators

and crocodiles sliding just

beneath your visitor’s gaze

still holding you in reach.

 

there are no footprints in the

snow, no facemarks on the payphone

 

the wild is rooted in

its slow reveal. a lantern,

an insect in amber, a

bracelet bumping against

your slender wrist.

 

 

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