The Poetry of
Michael G. Khmelnitsky

banished
from the busy living room
to the balcony

you stand defiant
slender foot in water dipped
your face turned to the sun


you take in the scene
of cars intertwined
through the cloverleaf

you breathe in
the invisible bay
obstructed by construction


and streets
oh Lily you still have time
but not much

others would hurry
but you will stand there
'til evening


'til the memory of
being cut down
will bloom and blister

like a fiery vision
and you
so precariously leaning


in the instant of
a decision
will gather your whitebrown skirts

coyly dipping your head
as if abashèd
by the sound of the roaring sky