IN THE FUNNEL

IN THE FUNNEL

In the center
of the city
where high-rises
converge
a funnel of buildings
tosses upward
pigeons
and dirty feathers
soot
and peeled labels of summer
much like the bus
we wait for
that will spew us
out
across
the countryside—
all kinds of men
women
drifters
down & outs
who just about make it
day to day.

MEETING AN OLD LOVER

I hear her call me
as I remember she had.
I am not ready to meet her
here in the supermarket.
I have imagined
what I might say to her.
Tell her I was in Europe,
I am on a new committee,
I have been in the newspaper.
But she seems to take it all in
with a new peace in her face.
Her eyes are still a burning blue,
bones that reveal her soul,
hair a personality all its own
n a style different again.
She listens to me smiling
and readily admits now
that we’re getting older
and it’s just in the scheme of things.

POST-WOMAN

Toss of hair
a flame in the breeze,
little truck purring
by the curb
as if waiting her,
always a postal badge
seasonal
on a blue parka
or blue shorts
--large leather bag no problem—
compact body of
gymnast
no, it was impossible
a teenage daughter
when she eternally
twenty,
as I on my balcony
would offer unneeded
encouragement
my feeble flirtation
“Nether rain nor snow nor sleet . . .”
her laugh with a catch
“I know, I know . . .”

Ray Greenblatt is an editor for the Schuylkill Valley Journal and teaches a “Joy of Poetry” course at Temple University. His most recent book of poetry is From an Old Hotel on the Irish Coast (Parnilis Media, 2023).