*Note: I'm revisiting a lot of old poems for comparisons' sake and thought they would be interesting to share here.
I'm somewhere between Spruce and Pine by the docks sitting on the ledges,
Admiring your green hue here in the pale moonlight. Beneath me, spiders
Are pirouetting through makeshift hedges, lacing every bit of them like tinsel
On a pine tree.
You symbolized something once on a Christmas Day:
Freedom from our forefathers abroad
(We celebrate it by electrifying the sky
In the middle of the sultry summer).
But now you've surrendered as a retirement home for rusted, dormant, tourist trap ships.
Your lips are shut; it's quiet except for the big bellows of the ferry's horn, even though
I taste your defiant demeanor in the tap. And with the same haste you once had,
I stand on my knees in fear of you swallowing me and my saddle-shoes whole,
But I can see you've grown too old for excitement.
The fish have all swum west, Dear Delaware,
Like victory, they are no longer yours to own.
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