Suddenly ambushed
By whatever the hell
Holds up the ceiling
And nails me to the floor
I am an inch tall
I weigh a ton
Red fluids slosh
That woman in the blue sweater?
She will blast off into space
At any moment
Spoons and lamps spinning after her
We are smithereens
We are rubble
The bowstring of the day is drawn
As far as it will go
Numbered days
Numbered skies
Numbered gardens
Patience of the roof
Generosity of the shining bridge
Still alive in 2023
A war
-- New York, December 20, 2023
