“MADISON STREET”

New year’s eve, on a

slanted, blueish, wooden porch.

Tiresome it looks, from 

years of patiently carrying

the cumbersome weight

of meaningless conversations 

and loudish love affairs.

It suffers no such heft now,

for the rain is stubborn tonight, 

and I stand alone, sipping

poison straight from

Mockingbird’s golden beak, 

how ironic is that?

Only briefly did she sing to me,

I saw sorrow in her eyes,

lambs I have not killed.

A wet cigarette, a stolen lighter, 

a shoe buckle that’s bound to break,

and the omnipresent tidal patterns 

of grief following me faithfully, 

like a shadow. 

The rain violently hits an old

mattress abandoned on the sidewalk,

what’d it ever do to the world?

Making my way back, my shoe

buckle now broken, I see all

the haunted houses, their cobwebs

still fresh between my fingers.

Heels clack on Madison street, 

knowing things will never be the same.

Let me walk on the cracks of Madison street, 

and pretend that things will be just fine. 

Mockingbird, I didn’t have the heart 

for a midnight wish.

M.L. January ‘25