Albany Poetry 
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Old Glory

John Raub

Manhattan Skyline

I walk with uncertainty
Pull my scarf into place,
And adjust my glasses straight;
Tug down at my jacket sleeves
While turning my watch face up.
I can feel my insides pouring down;
This dead weight makes me drag my feet
Leaving a trail of condolences behind.
My walk pierces through ghostly clouds
Which hug the ground to help heal the hurt.
Gouged from the side,
And thrown out for everyone to see.
I step in the wound,
Peering upwards
Through a bleeding Manhattan skyline.

October, 2001