Early Evening, Allison Park
High on the Palisades, early evening
slants everything toward the truth,
the Hudson below flowing and flowing south,
healing Manhattan's shore.
This distortion lengthening the hour,
intent on pushing away
any reminder of what transpired,
blurs the lines to keep us calm,
and although the wind is lazy,
moving only the outer branches of trees,
there is a sense that we cannot grasp
what may be coming toward us.
The path is straight, but striped by trees
and narrow sunlight jittery with dust,
we seem to be going downhill.
On the way to the gates
that will be locked at the rim of night,
people halt and gaze around
as if searching for something lost,
their voices little hammers
striking snippets of thoughts,
interrupted only now and then
by a low-flying plane
whose engines still sing in our blood.
|Marianne Poloskey's poetry has appeared in The Christian Science Monitor, Connecticut Review, Louisiana Literature, Paterson Literary Review, The Spoon River Poetry Review, Valparaiso Poetry Review, and War, Literature & the Arts, among others. Her book, Climbing the Shadows, was published in 2001 by Chi Chi Press.