- Flannery Maney
Paris
Sprinting through the fog
Seen and born and heard and felt
Shining skin, frigid air, enlivening of all the things
Wet pavement, calloused hand, comfort, come with me
I know a local place, stay for hours
Wet ground, dry wine,
We are alive as music swells, the sway of former things
Thick oils on the walls, comfort, mother, guidance, come with me
Horns and deep vocals, rasp, clasp my hand in yours
Two languages collide, laundry lists of stories
Blaring light refracting, flashing from the Seine
Jump in, ride along in the sweltering swerve, come with me
We are the Spring leaves, swaying, soaking in water
Our sneakers run on the pavement— ancient, tiny minuscule
Pieces under—former lovers, grandfathers at war,
Ancestors crawling forward, holding onto the stem, come with me
The Seine is life, it breathes, it moves, it peaks, it guides
Sit beside it, touch heaven, touch wood,
The Seine is danger, the Seine is lifespan, everything we need
And everything we lose, ebbing and bobbing with spray, come with me
Until the leaves freeze over and fall and die. Seen and born and heard and felt and gone
come with me
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