The main street burns. It’s two blocks to your place.
There are girls everywhere and the one I’m looking at
Might. She holds my stare a second, then, compassionate,
She lets it go. And I can hardly see her face
For people. Yet when, like a great slow fish, she turns
Into the tide, baring her teeth at me, I look down
At the hot stone crumbling under my feet, at the brown
Dust there. She moves on. The main street burns.
It’s two blocks to your place. There are girls everywhere.
__________
“Your Place” by Ian Hamilton. This previously unpublished poem can be found along with the rest of Hamilton’s work in Ian Hamilton: Collected Poems.
The picture: taken in Houston, Texas.
Filed under: Poetry Tagged: Ian Hamilton, Poem, Poet, poetry, Your Place
