By Gianmarc Manzione
Published in Literal Latte 7.3 (2001): 9.
The afternoon is struggling
to break from under the street.
Outside the pizzeria passersby
meet love’s end.
He rips a cigarette from his mouth,
she cries on her feet.
Where there was light, there is noise.
where there were birds, there are shadows.
What was my past is a clutter of bones.
when I’m not looking it gathers
and rises into a body; when I’m not looking
it licks the back of my neck.
The afternoon is full of noise.
The street bangs and the men drill.
Shadows map the curb; his cigarette
flames in the gutter, and outside Ray’s Pizzeria
love is a whirlwind of scraps
summoning a quick summer rain.