Alt text:
Matter & Mercy
If you think about it, all cities are the same;
concrete places faces you can boil
down into atoms and energy,
skyscrapers owned by divine
monopoly—pedestrians caught
between matter and mercy.
What phantoms slip through the cracks
of your all-devouring worldview?
Whimpering whistled whispers
of steam you mistook for the creaking
of shoes worn by self-defeated
thieves practicing sign-language in the dark.
I cut my deck of fifty-two
jacks down the middle and drew for a nine
—the space between the wilting cream-
colored cardstock. I discarded my hand
and shuffled again, my younger
cousin in the backseat discarding his
twix bar wrapper deep underneath
the velvet Buick interior
—I panned for truths I could never know if I found.
Location: Little Maquoketa River, North Fork
