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Entering into the tall city, a place of its own weather. Stirred into its battery. The baby in the king cake. The fly in the matzoh ball soup. How did so many possibilities gather on one patch? Do the rivers carry currents, does the iron attract fools and angels? My friend Myron can tell you the ages of things he holds, can walk all night, can recite the lineage of every restaurant in Flushing. His palms smell like tokens. He was born in a bodega, raised under the tracks. He will have an H&H halo—no, I lie, he lives eternal. He edits speculative fiction. Why, when his planet is so fantastic?

Across from the Tenement Museum
a white declaration on dirty brick

Pamela Murray Winters lives and works in Maryland. Her first book, The Unbeckonable Bird, was published by Future Cycle Press in 2018. A graduate of Vermont College of Fine Arts, a two-time recipient of Maryland arts grants, and a multiple Pushcart nominee, she spends a great deal of time playing in quiz leagues and trying to convince her cats to submit to a nontransactional relationship.

© 2022, Pamela Murray Winters

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