The New Beautiful
Nine Months
When I held your shoulders the city caught fire.
Everything leaned into everything like timber.
I haven't loved you like this for years.
Tell me, again, what we loved about the city
that summer afternoon the balconies went silent,
as you held a camera over the rail and took pictures
of the unfamiliar faces
passing one building, then the next,
like the sound of birds. This wanting the old construction,
the new beautiful
blueprints. Show me what stands in my place.
Floating Wolf
