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After The Cold Moon

by declan coles

I return. Like a rebirth

Fitting as the new year approaches:

The bitter reigns of the

Ever-rising course that is

The Hudson and East River.

I ascend from the damp gray

Into the dry winter cold,

Casting the remnants of my youth.

I marvel at patina-ed memories,

While daydreaming on the

Rise and Fall of the city.

Laden with blood rubies and

The golden forge of Tammany Hall.

I trace Edith’s lips,

Like a faded dance down Irving Place,

A burning snapshot up towards

The oil lamps and ironclad gates of

Gramercy Park.

I stare up. Waiting

For an old friend.

Thinking of the past and future,

And waiting for the chimes.

When the water rushes from

East and West- enclosing:

To claim me and

Speak my fortune.


Image by Bree Anne
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