Poetry

Caper's Poets

A Window in Harlem — Jeffrey Grunthaner

I think I hear beyond the walls
An allegro of vessel: sounds
Of late birds singing in
This filter air of gray
Wrapped in a suit. Ah!
What sadness there in those
Dim calls: the “I-don’t-know”
Of kids sidling ‘longside
The pattern of city streets,
To sandals driving nails
Into aura of morning.
Clang! goes the kitchenware
Somewhere. But who
Accentuates the sidewalk
To the ear? An asphalt melody
Siphons the corner ear.
And theatric cadence
Neath cloud belated, is voices
Of a goose far sadder; breaks,
Murmurs intervention in
The singing air: dove-like
Sweet songs with longing
Weighted, while kids
In their fancied towers whistle
Come-ons to the silly birds
Of Harlem. This morning,
Singing light: a rose you can
Almost taste, in winds
Whispering against heavy bars
More gray than flowers:
Empurpled birds of upsurging
Spring, and sighing traffic
On Broadway. Till stars
Their pellucid places fill,
Spilling gears to a moment’s
Heraldry—And no birds
(B-z-z-z-z-z) greet the sky
With barking click of clacking
Bells, but the voices of kids
Still whirring, Clack! Clack!
Clack! up to my window,
Rising like buttons thrown.

Filed under: Issue 2, Jeffrey Grunthaner

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