late summer, morning
eva gelman | Fall 2021
it’s morning and i am awake
while the sun rises and my roommate leaves for work
i brew myself some tea and watch the orange sky
the day rests easy before me
and the home that i’ve come back to
sleeps under me
like she sleeps,
across the universe and
some waves away.
today, i will make breakfast
and take my bike to the repair shop
down the street. i’ve left it here
and now, the elements conspire
with the houseless youth
to dye the chain red and fill the basket with
half-empty cups and nearly-eaten fruit.
i will ask them to take care of it,
sit on the river’s edge
and watch the hudson ducks bathe by the flooded skeleton bridge
i’ll write this poem
on the back of the receipt
and pick up my bike
and ride it to my house