As we await the train, Chicago
wind
reminds us we are flesh and bone
amid
much glass and metal, stone and brick.
Thin skinned,
we huddle like some fuzzy
chickens hid
beneath a few hospitable heat lamps.
The humming 'L' arrives to slurp us up.
We watch the world—without: cars,
fences, ramps;
within: assorted hats and coffee
cups.
What prompts the woman's choice
of red pom-pom,
the gentleman's neat brim, the
young man's scarf
(long nearly to his shoes)? What
chasing thrums
guitarist's fingers as we disembark?
Electric song finds roaring
tunnel fit
for living, fly-wing bright and
delicate.
Ah, how welcome it is to see you writing sonnets! :)
ReplyDeleteAnd this is a darned good one. I like the assonances you've employed (await/train, huddled/fuzzy). I like the way you've consciously or unconsciously broken a pentameter across a line-break! -- "the young man's scarf (long nearly to his shoes)" ... and the last couplet is reminiscent, subtly so, of Elizabeth Bishop's "Man-Moth."
Oh, yes -- and "slurp"! Not what the commuter does to her coffee, but what the L does to the commuters!
Bravissima! You may have inspired or challenged me to write a sonnet about Boston, trying to capture its urban-ness, its seethe and its teem, its bustle and nudge, its crowding and crunch. (I'll see what I can do!)
Thank you, Thomas! I'm pleased that Chicago has made its way into my poetry--I think it was just too foreign for a while for me to do much with.
ReplyDeleteI do hope you write that sonnet about Boston! I'll keep an eye out for it on your blog :)