Victor Kerlow Dear Diary:
(This poem was written in the spring several years ago.)
there
is
a
butterfly
loose
in
the subway
and
a
woman’s voice
takes
flight
over
the
downtown tracks
to
join
in
duet
with
an old bluesman
pitching
us
all
into
the space
of a
moment
where
borders
are crossed
timetables
forgot
and
we
become
for
one large moment
a
small
subterranean
nation
waiting
in
harmony
for
the
uptown train.
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