I notice a poem
As we construct, invent and destroy
All at once
When the earth gets tight
And squeezes leaves off the trees
And the air hurts the chest
Under the skin
I notice
The little things, living or not,
Close to my path, on my path-
The ones before their wings are done
The aunts, and crickets
Spiders-builders and eaters-
The lonely and committed ones,
Neglected, acknowledged, disregarded
I notice
The memories linger in the morning
Coffee and cigarettes were the past
The pen is cruel yet gives comfort
Here in the beginning of the end
A poem
The clay breaths and drinks from the plant
The corner stairs at the sun
An empty room
I notice
The keys make music on the door
Now sounds coming and going
A memory of a voice cannot be repeated
It dies in its story – in eternity a fading whisper
I notice
We construct, invent and destroy all at once.

Maria Kranidis is a professor of English at Suffolk County Community College, New York. Her writing has appeared in Cabaret, State of the Art, Rio, Cassandra, Confrontation, Poetry Magazine, Best Poem, Apollo’s Lyre, Long Island Quarterly and Have a NYC : Collection of Short Stories, and Salt & Pepper & Silver Linings: Anthology of Stories, and ArLijo Journal.