POETRY

Near First Avenue, after the Hurricane, 2012

By

            "And the voice of harpers, and musicians, and of pipers, and trumpeters shall be heard no more at all in thee; and no craftsman, of whatsoever craft he be, shall be found any more in thee."
                 - Revelations 18:22


with gratitude to Fanny Howe

It was strangely quiet
outside and in--music
was private, and the wind
less terrifying than
it might have been. We, who
had been prepared for more,
with guilt remained indoors
to gorge on unspoiled food.
We knew that we were bored.

But neither of us made
the effort to engage
in Scrabble, or in cards--
the work of building suits
or words demanded more
than there was power for.
Those days, we didn't know
the surging river's flow
had nearly reached our door.

Thomas March is a poet, teacher and critic who lives in New York City. Recent work has appeared in Assaracus, Bellevue Literary Review, Chelsea Station, and Confrontation. He is a member of The National Book Critics Circle, and his criticism has appeared in American Book Review, The Believer, New Letters, and other journals. Visit his website here.

the work of building suits
or words demanded more
than there was power for.
Those days, we didn't know
the surging river's flow
had nearly reached our door.