by David Hanlon
after Laura Nyro’s “New York Tendaberry”
Her face lifts to the sky,
eyes humming in reverent shadow
on a glowing street-corner.
The New York wind
twirls her dark hair
into a tender shawl of sighs
and piercing ecstasies.
I wear it like a stark pulse,
through every quaking hour,
every subway tremor—
blueberry-dreaming
through my drawn eyes,
searching for the captain.
Her love-drenched warble
aching a jagged skyline,
skyscrapers and cafes quiver
with whispers and cries,
her fingers flutter and whirr,
cloaking each cobble in song.
David Hanlon is a poet from Cardiff, Wales. His work has appeared in numerous journals and magazines, including Rust & Moth, Anthropocene, and trampset. His debut full-length collection, “Dawn’s Incision”, was published by Icefloe Press.
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