Bowery Spring

. . . four flights up, the windowsill waits. A wick

languishes in its own spent body, holds the secrets

of Chinatown in waxen arms as variegated ivy

shuffles down brick lintels, licking memories

one tendril at a time.

–excerpt from “Bowery Spring” in  To Sip Darjeeling at Dawn by Donna Pucciani (Virtual Artists Collective, Chicago 2008). Published in Chinese translation in New Poetry Appreciation.

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