Editor’s Post – “Entering the City”

Coming out of the dark bus depot, the traveler is greeted by bright lights like jewels streaming emerald, ruby, sapphire. Glimmering entities, at times distinct, at times coalesced encourage high hopes as city dwellers swarm around them like satellites to stars. Thirst arises for knowledge of this city, its history, its people. This need to know is matched only by a thirst for sweet liquid which, when found, fills incomparably well. Sublime sugar runs down the middle of the mouth while sour lemon seeps at the sides. Sipping the cold can feels commensurate to absorbing everything as the city swallows with its noise and sights, the liquid drowns the senses. For a few solitary seconds there is a feeling of complete relief. profile-1 Ayesha F. Hamid is a poet and creative nonfiction writer published in Blue Bonnet Review, Bridge Eight, Sheepshead Review, and Rathalla Review. Her full-length memoir The Borderland Between Worlds is available through Auctus Publishers at Barnes and Nobles and Amazon.  Ayesha also has a full-length poetry collection called Waiting for Resurrection. She served as Poetry Editor at Ran Off With the Star Bassoon and as an Assistant Poetry Editor for The Night Heron Barks. She is the Editor-in-Chief at The City Key. Ayesha holds a Bachelor of Arts in French and A Bachelors of Science in Sociology from Chestnut Hill College, M.F.A. in Creative Writing and an M.A. in Publishing from Rosemont College. She also holds an M.A. in Sociology from Brooklyn College. Ayesha is a lover of cities, big and small. Please note: Poetry is compressed to fit smart phone screens. If you are reading this poem on a phone screen, please turn your screen sideways to make sure that you are seeing correct line breaks for this poem. Please note: Poetry is compressed to fit smart phone screens. If you are reading this poem on a phone screen, please turn your screen sideways to make sure that you are seeing correct line breaks for this poem.

“What It’s About” by Spencer Shaak

I look for Charlie every time
on Sundays at the Bayou Bar.
He’s always on the same stool,
slugging down two-dollar Miller Lights.

We watch Eagles football together
with the rest of the Bayou.
We talk about what we like
about Philadelphia – Wissahickon Park,
fallen-fire crusted leaves,
hustle and bustle, food vendors,
barbecue steam,
bicyclists swinging in and out,
like bright crochet hooks
weaving their own section
of Philadelphia’s quilt.

Charlie tells me he’s lived in the city
for all eighty years of his life.
I say – Me? Barely one.
But right now, it’s not about then,
it’s about now – Main Street, Manayunk,
bikes in and then out, hickory smoke blocks away,
Bayou, two-dollar Miller Lights,

Charlie sitting on the stool to my right.
It’s about words never said:
You’re like a grandfather to me.

Capture

Spencer Shaak is an MFA graduate in creative writing from Rosemont College in Rosemont, Pennsylvania.

Please note: Poetry is compressed to fit smart phone screens. If you are reading this poem on a phone screen, please turn your screen sideways to make sure that you are seeing correct line breaks for this poem.