Aubade
       

I wake up in my old house,
squinting at the seam of light
gilding the flowered curtains,
as six flights down the city's up before me.
Across the street, a woman in green
unchains the gated park. The block
fills with taxis. The light turns,
then turns back without me.

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Copyright © 2018 David Yezzi All rights reserved
from Black Sea
Carnegie Mellon University Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission