Dispatch From a Clear Morning in McCarren Park

It happened so suddenly. The city stood
still, and a silence like sunlight cascaded
around me. It was as if I could hear
the otters flopping
in the Gowanus Canal three miles south,
the steam of an espresso machine
dampening a rag,
a starling’s wingtip brushing a dead
leaf, a blade of grass shedding
its coat of frosty dew,
and somewhere, a father
raising the blinds, letting the sun
do the ugly business
of waking his child.

William G. Gillespie lives and writes in Brooklyn. His poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Boats Against the Current, Red Eft Review, Olney Magazine, and The Drunken Canal.

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