Musings from a Lost New York Native
This poem explores the process of getting to know oneself when given the freedom to do so. More recently, I’ve noticed aspects of myself mirrored in the city, and I want my work to reflect that.
I don’t want to put on a hat.
My ears are so cold
they burn.
But I won’t do it.
I can’t.
Warmth feels unnatural now.
Let the air prick and my hair
run loose in the
wind,
slipping into my eyes,
out from behind my ears.
I left my scarf at school. I’ll
probably never see it again. The cold
bites into my skin as I gaze skyward,
to the tops of the buildings that
I pass.
The night swallows every
building I pass. They are
frigid and invisible in the dark, only
light can unfreeze them.
My hair could stand on end in this cold . . .
it feels like it is.
It’s late now,
and only the top of
the Empire State Building
matters anymore.
The bottom half of my head
stays cold and forgotten too.
The dark wanders along beside me
in this big city.
It’s a larger than life
kind of town, so many eyes to watch
what belongs to me,
let them see.
I don’t want to put on a hat.
Let the air prick and my own hair
bite into my skin as I gaze skyward.
My hair could stand on end in this cold,
but only the bottom half of my head
belongs to me.
Let them see.