Every day brings a golden crisis up over
The horizon, especially when no one is looking,
For now the sky is the refuse of a bellows
And a furnace, scarlet over the city spires,
Meanwhile the streets bleed but are full of diamonds.
The river churns and pretends to frighten
Bridge goers with imitation scales,
Such small waves and a broad empty berth,
No flotilla takes advantage of the wide aquatic spaces,
Why is this real estate treated like a fantasy?
Human powered lights flicker in disco splendor,
I could guard myself with a dance of hasty shadows
Or turn to welcoming statuary at our intersection,
The turning wheels fire brightness
Like a Gatlin Gun shooting at pedestrian natives.
BEN NARDOLILLI currently lives in Arlington, Virginia. His work has appeared in Pear Noir, The Minetta Review, and Yes Poetry. His chapbook, Common Symptoms of an Enduring Chill Explained, has been published by Folded Word Press. He maintains a blog at mirrorsponge.blogspot.com and is looking to publish his first novel.