Matthew Abuelo Poet Free verse

A Lettter

My pages have become testimonies
Of nothing to say
In a state where everyone speaks 
But little is ever said. 
These pages have become as vast as Potter’s Field
Where every word loses their identity 
And remain voiceless 
In this time of static.

Every name gives way
To serial numbers
And everyone who almost won now sleep
On top of forgotten losers
Who at least owned their own exit
Which came with a kiss to the third rail.

It is a perfect escape
For those of us don’t wish to be found
By those who bought New York
Lock stock and barrel
And forced her on to the stage
Under the strippers’ light
To dance without an ounce of rusted dignity.
Her last on going dream
to put on that black leather dress 
of No Wave
and
 take the El train to the last station
still in time
when the rats lived behind the walls
before they started buying each
apartment 
building
with
“for rent” signs on all the doors
Designed to hide just another crime scene.

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