To: The Battery
Battery Pl., State St. and Whitehall St.
New York, NY 10004
From: Anna-Dmitry Muratova
When people spit into trash bins,
Not on the ground.
When smokers put out their cigarettes
On the soles of their shoes,
Not on the walls of tall, glass buildings.
There’s ash on where my sneakers
Touch the ground.
When birds don’t choke
On the gum stuck to the pavements,
And when adults don’t tell the kids
To “Shut up!” or
When the sky is the color of poppy petals
And when lovers kiss my neck.
Wearing my red turtleneck.
In it, I feel like a real human,
How there’s only one star in the sky
Bright enough to split into ten separate ones.
All of them — my friends,
Looking at the city lights from afar.
You notice how they flicker.
And knowing the difference
Between alpha decay
And the eventual decay
Being unafraid of
But only in New York.
And I begin to like
Email Anna-Dmitry at [email protected]