I see floating seagulls
a few feet below, unfailing and quiet against
the cars that speck their background; one dares
and drifts to eyes’ level, hovering
in muddy darkness, a scar of gray paint
on black canvas. For a moment, a sort of peace
is salvaged from the beauty. But the floor moves,
a wind that’s cold in June stings my eyes, and lights
below seem an array of stars.

excerpt from “Being from Clinton, Oklahoma and Visiting the Empire State Building in June, at Night” by Cory Brown

About Amber Donofrio

A writer, contemporary art enthusiast, and nature appreciator divided between coasts.
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