New York City

I haven’t been to the city
since she died

it acts the same
in its smug anonymity

changing storefronts
new detours
the chatter of a million
different languages
out of unfamiliar mouths

I could see how grief
would be comfortable here,
unseen and unheard

you could probably fall
into one of those steaming hot vents
and no one would even notice –

the world would just keep going on
above you

it’d be a more honest experience
it’s what the world keeps doing regardless

whether you’re above the ground or below it