H e a r t S o n s & H e a r t D a u g h t e r s of A l l e n G i n s b e r g

N a p a l m H e a l t h S p a : R e p o r t 2 0 1 4 : A r c h i v e s E d i t i o n

HOLLY JONES

A Walk to a Pier

The winter turned out to be the shade of my tears.

We were walking through Riverside Park

when I noticed this phenomenon.

I looked at you askance and desperate.

Your breath rose indifferently into the gray air

smearing into the warm hue

uttered by a red light that pulsed gently

at the end of a dock.

There, a little wreck of a boat

treaded water breathlessly,

drifting away piece by piece

into the Hudson River.

I stood weak and quiet

until out of me came a far away voice,

“By spring I’ll be gone.”