Lauren Kessler

New York

rain severs the city

into halves, quarters, millionths,

 

the peripheral visions of

a passerby—

 

cigarettes nestled in

the zigzag of cobblestones

 

a damp brown paper bag

clinging to the neck of a bottle

 

summer’s soft breath

holding itself – still –

 

against the fishnetted legs

stepping into an off-duty taxicab

 

as the night is ending and the storm

is glossing the streets

 

in streaks of redyellowgreen,

in halves, quarters, millionths.