The sun has been shining on my kingdom
All day long. At night the light grows brighter still,
Joy an infectious element in my human mind.
Today the conversation has been about old New York.
Time is lacking to discuss who left the banana peel
atop the fire alarm box, a heartbreaking
Scandal of red and yellow creating
Mass migration to the other coast.
Let’s linger instead on what the color
Of autumn means and what the weight
Of a fallen leaf can bring to one such as I
Sitting alone on this broken bench.Last night my mother called from the grave.
“Eat normal food, my son,” she said, directing
Me to the baked beans at the Automat.
My brother sleeps by the railroad tracks,
Daring the New York Central to section
Off his scalp, while my sister, so inclined,
Sings arias from the guy wires of the Brooklyn Bridge.Oh mighty borough, that could break a man’s
Heart, with a double vowel transporting us
To consonantal shores. I didn’t mean
To speak of you, but where have you gone that
You are now so large before me with churches
In my face, my mother singing tenderly,
“And he walks with me and he talks with me,”
Her voice traveling through all doors
And into the waiting street.September 2003