Just inside her front door she sits with me
In this apartment where she eats the dinners
Of the recently divorced and plays the piano
With amateurish delight and reads from the books
Piled on her coffee table. Later, when she has
done with me, I walk through the park.
The murderers are everywhere, hanging out
In trees from which they leap with sharpened
Knives, intent on crossing the line once again.
Nearby, a museum, its doors closed for the night,
Listens for new arrivals in this city I cannot do without.
Download a pdf of all poems to date: Poems