Mara Adamitz Scrupe
Waking Under the Walnut Street Bridge
let me persist but not divide let me sit
quietly with the tiniest let composure
ride my thighs & calves/ luckily
for me my life’s
at its worst or exemplar
(sometimes) misprision or the feeling/ confidence things will get
better even when they don’t/ Stockholm syndrome
sort of so let me listen/ trace the linguist’s
lessons with my tongue do my best with
things corruptible/ colors lumens & texts/ my body’s
contours by which I mean to measure all others ashiver
this rheumy morning street – strafe let me half
– smile at the man waking under the Walnut
Street Bridge bundling up his bedroll let me not
fear good morning or pretty day
on the way let me glide the more terrible apace
running not from fear but from anticipated
joy I’ll admit
to evangelical/ the Lemming’s lost cause unsatisfied
with leave & sedge a truth – less myth of suicide creatures forced
off the cliff by the camera crew let me instead
strive to do more/ better/ good/ let me dream
polyamorously or just imagine much – loved & many –
praised all – embraced & brilliant leave shifting sands’
lustrous democracy perseverantly
let me give the lie to indifference once formed
bone upon bone let me tongue soft palate
beneficence: let my manner of speaking make me
mute so I will in all ways hear
By Mara Adamitz Scrupe