Andrew K. Peterson

Poem for Boston Seaport’s Northern Avenue Bridge on Joe Cooper’s Birthday

Blood summons the diamond-
harbor city wakes that long for
net-lit passage, smoked copper
dome mouth pouring sage-lipped
incense nailed to concrete.

Harbor the city in wakes
that long for you, disgraced
unions of smuggled blue
elephant labrum, moss,
labor’s musk. Continuation’s

busked out grace rents years
in a tilt among climates for a sphinx
eye to fill. Snow melts the pyramids
releasing bones of tyrants, peaceful kings,
forgotten golds from a rift orchard.

Share these abandoned names
with the storm that brings erosion
in ragtime flu-braced floods, headless
birds, free stuff museums of lost
hoodies. Beneath torrents: violet

skies, deranged rovers beneath cap space,
beneath tea-flooded tides. Vacuums
the leopard from domesticate wheel
fire, frailing and framming. Wash
Atlantic Rivieras out with foam ash

lost deliveries, dismantled search
engines. Blossom and return
illusions on reckless city rewind.
Blossom, oi urchin pattern
fire-nettled floors, birthday forests.

Blossom and anew, release.

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