Ariel Francisco

IN RESPONSE TO PEOPLE TRYING TO RENAME
 
 THE SOUTH BRONX “THE PIANO DISTRICT”

Of course they only see
 
 the white keys— not
 
 the dark strings inside,
 
 veins that feed the heart,
 
 that do the actual singing.

LOOKING DOWN FROM ATOP
 
 THE EMPIRE STATE BUILDING

Such crowds flow through this city—
 
 the tops of their heads look like so many
 
 pennies at the bottom of a wishing well
 
 rippling beneath another tossed prayer.

TULIPS IN WINTER

Unblossomed on a windowsill,
 
 white heads bowed in surrender:
 
 ghosts that tremble in the wake
 
 of wrecking balls, that haunt
 
 men in hardhats until the walls
 
 crumble into the dirty slush.
 
 Where are the hands that placed
 
 them on that ledge, waiting
 
 for them to burst open? Soon,
 
 it will all melt into spring—
 
 that is, it will be forgotten.

Ariel Francisco is a first generation American poet of Dominican and Guatemalan descent. He is currently completing his MFA at Florida International University where he is the editor-in-chief of Gulf Stream Literary Magazine. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Gulf Coast, Tupelo Quarterly, Washington Square, and elsewhere, and his chapbook “Before Snowfall, After Rain" is forthcoming from Glass Poetry Press. He lives in Miami, FL.