Brooklyn Aubade I have never seen 7th Avenue like this: from your window, all the bricks bleached orange, white curtains gone gold. It’s years past curfew, and I tip-toe still. Whole city’s sleeping, same as you, but for me the mourning begins: Remember when I took you to the uptown Whitney? So you could see how I sit, watching the Hoppers as if they will wake when everyone turns quiet, caught in the night hawk’s stare? A shadow will shrink. A door will give way. Anne Duncan Anne Duncan is a poet from Brooklyn NY currently living in Seattle WA as she pursues her PhD in English from the University of Washington. She holds a BA in creative writing from Johns Hopkins University, and her literary reviews can be found in 32 Poems and Bone Bouquet. She is an amateur visual artist, with a creative and scholarly love for ekphrastic literature.
1 Comment
Katongo Musukuma
7/2/2022 10:50:29 pm
Love your poems. Thanks for sharing..
Reply
Your comment will be posted after it is approved.
Leave a Reply. |
The Ekphrastic Review
COOKIES/PRIVACY
This website uses marketing and tracking technologies. Opting out of this will opt you out of all cookies, except for those needed to run the website. Note that some products may not work as well without tracking cookies. Opt Out of CookiesJoin us: Facebook and Bluesky
June 2025
|