Speeding toward the promise of sunrise
lingering just beyond Logan Airport,
the cab driver glances left.
In a little while, he says,
the Boston skyline over there
will… will… glimmer.
He looks forward again, turning the word
around in his head.
The sky is big steel blue.
If you tapped it with your finger,
it would ring.
The skyscrapers stick to it loose and low,
corners curled back slightly.
You could peel them off if you wanted.
Cement floods the city
frozen in its flow,
connecting all the pieces
clear of the traffic
and clutter and clatter
humans just waking
are bound to bring soon.
A breeze floats into the cab
through the partly rolled down window,
clean and bare as the air
over the harbor ahead
where the sun will splash up any minute.
poetry manuscript, Every State Has Its Own Light, was a finalist for the 2011 May Swenson Award from Utah State University Press. Her poetry has appeared or will appear in New Millennium Writings, THEMA and the New York Quarterly, among other journals. Growing up, she went to 12 schools in four states by the time she was 11. As an adult, she lived in Southeast Asia for four years teaching English, and at one time could speak fluent Thai. She was the founder, editor and publisher of two Boston neighborhood newspapers for 20 years and is currently a columnist for one of them. Sandee is a member of Jamaica Pond Poets, a weekly collaborative workshop. She has been a featured reader at many venues in the Boston area.