Sweet Jesus crashes to the sidewalk.
Part of the building has just slipped off—
and everyone is stopped in an instant circle
around the ledge. The city performs a pause
and miraculous someone says no one was killed.
We are huddling outside of Dazzling Nails.
Even before the scene is taped off it was taped off.
The slab cracked in two, a smooth phantom dolphin,
and the crowd extending down the street.
Closer in, a group of men look with an eye to see
how the ledge might be moved. But there's another lift
of the eyes, up to the building and vacancy
where the ledge had been. The hole there, an homage
to stone that has lived so long in the sky, and
the ambition to build into the brilliance against
this continuous line. I heard a Berlioz song
five or six stories up—mingling with a spin class:
the windows wide open in a clear yet distant throttle—
Does anyone really know where music comes from?
Wilderness of blue and glass: the sky perfectly adrift,
perfectly clear, a blazing stream of duststrewn daylight,
its spin, nothing out of place.
Runaway Goat Cart
Hanging Loose Press