Upon Crossing the Brooklyn Bridge While Wildfires Brush Through Quebec

Leah Umansky
| poetry

 

after the 25th Poets Walk with Poets House in NYC

I think about the kindnesses in my life. I met a man on the downtown 2 train

Who told me I had good energy, asked me about my Freddie Mercury pin,

And said he knew I was a teacher. I think about the way I’ve spent so long looking

For a man unafraid of his heart, unhindered by his feelings—and have finally found one.

The world almost ended, and now the blue sky is a stale brown, the sun a flaming red.

How is this city on the cusp of summer? Here, I am walking with others, in poetry,

For poetry and the poetry of this moment is, you never know where your life will lead you.

James Bridle says, we are constantly being brought closer to the world, and I feel that, here,

Suspended in the uncertainty of smog, in the remnants of flame, and I’ve never felt closer

To my self—to my womanhood. I hold myself. A friend uses intuition to aid my apartment

Search saying, practice gratitude tonight, and I do. On the way home, I run through the catalog

Of my body naming each part in my mind and meditating. I catalog my friends and loved

Ones, too, and when I get to my street, I think about my love giving, my ability to love, and I hold

That in my mind. Where am I going to fix my gaze? Here, right here, on my mind, my step, my heart.

Leah Umansky is the author of three collections of poetry, most recently, Of Tyrant (Word Works Books 2024.) She earned her MFA in Poetry at Sarah Lawrence College and has curated and hosted the Couplet Reading Series in NYC since 2011. Her poems have been widely published and this poem is a part of her new manuscript, Ordinary Splendor, poems on wonder, joy and love.

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