The Ocean of Brooklyn

My breath is Brooklyn bound-

  In leather sandals and mets caps

Backpacks with dodger blue in

  South American mestizo Spanish

In purple tops with stray straps dangling

  In gold chains and fat rimmed spectacles

In blinking eyes, squinting to catch a glimpse

   A moment of solace dressed in all black

    With a ny sports club pack

With graffiti of rust on metal doors

 O’ the arrogant ones!

O’ selfish kin

    Thou art the reflection of me!

 

The loud mouthed and toothless,

  The Dominican and Lubavitch

     Post messiah and wandering

Red-flushed wine faces

  Black stained; what’s read all over fingers

   They have sandals and blackened feet

And they trace the desire lines on their fingers

   With remembrances and thikr

In fancy shoes and collars popped

   In saggy jeans to tight to drop

Breathing, wheezing Brooklyn

   They scratch the surface

    To play the daily numbers

Adjusting… golden rings.

  Everyone clinging onto something.

To possess, grasping demanding

  Losing breath, chests aching,

    Expanding, contracting…

 

Until the doors of the train open.

   Like a valve, an outlet to the sea,

My body floats out of this brackish train

   Into the salty streets

Of this land of kings, next to queens,

   The borough, the city, the planet,

     The Ocean of Brooklyn.

Comments

[jasmin sultana]

this is amazing.."of this land of kings, next to queens."