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by Scott Cadence

Lying here.

I am looking out of a window
and I imagine the girl who looks out this window.
I am told she is gone to Israel,
taking a trip that would soon expire.

Lying here.

Next to a man I am in love with,
I am thinking about this girl I have never met
and yet incredibly it has come to be
I am in her bed.

Lying here.

The moon is drawn in on the floor
along the bed, against the shelves,
all her things. Dangling driftwood.
Stained glass bird. Books organized by color.

Lying here.

My body faces away from him toward the wall,
my mind,
my whole existence,
faces back as a means to see the truth.

Lying here.

I am thinking about this week.
The subtle nuances of loosing someone
who is right next to you,
the cunning nature of a daylight robbery.

Lying here.

I am so far past the grate cage of this cell
above and beyond his critical eye
the agency of which tools are hopelessly trying
to establish the value of something priceless.

Lying here.

In New York there are only single men.
All walking ahead of one another,
rushing up from the subway to the streets
in a mad dash to nowhere. To nothing.


Posted on 08/05/2012
Copyright © 2022 Scott Cadence

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 08/06/12 at 04:59 AM

"the cunning nature of a daylight robbery." - a brilliant line. Thank you.

Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 08/06/12 at 11:58 PM

The whole poem is really good, and I love the repetition of "Lying here", but that last closing stanza really did it for me. Kudos!

Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 10/09/13 at 03:03 PM

Good to see this as POTD!

Posted by Johnny Crimson on 03/10/14 at 05:30 PM

How cool is this! Wow!

Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 02/06/15 at 11:13 AM

a wonder of an ode, and waxing philosophical in a mad dash to nowhere, to nothing.

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