Poems from New York #9 (Newark, NJ)

From inside the bus I can see through the window:

the laborious process by which the young bus

driver helps the elderly woman get an

arm through a camel colored coat

 

Her right: it is a clumsy but surprisingly

robust wing that emerges – missing the hole

for an arm repeatedly but eventually becoming

that which it always was

One thought on “Poems from New York #9 (Newark, NJ)

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