Euclid Avenue in Spring

Heather Hallberg Yanda


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Today the six lanes
on the road are uncluttered.
A chorus of cars falls into place –
twenty-seven miles an hour
to miss the red lights –
filing past Monday’s
rubbish: buckets dizzy with overdue
medical school bulletins, sheet
music from the allegro vivo
movement of a Debussy sonata,
tired gym shoes stopped
mid-stride, and maybe a poem
or two tossed away at the brink
of creative despair.
And still, the cars continue
in the straight lines of piano keys
heading toward downtown dissonances
of barges bellowing across the river, and the slow
deliberate pulse of construction trucks

backing up, toward the silences of a blind
man one the corner of E. 22nd street, who
listens to the tide of old snow
against wide-tread tires, whose cane
sweeps the sidewalk ahead, cross-
hatching haggard shadows. The unsteady
rhythm of his shuffle erases
the footsteps that came before him
as he moves toward zero
on the city’s grid and the sculpture
of three soldiers who fought
a war that never came there.

Heather Hallberg Yanda

is a

Guest Contributor for Panorama.


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