Maiersdorf View

By Rachel Beitsch

I don’t preponder my insignificance
in this regal view of the Holy City, I
don’t even recognize the homes
below, or barely the Golden Dome
I’ve ever seen from the other side.
I couldn’t tell you if the streets
were Arab or even
or if the flag in blue and white
were fluttering against anyone’s will.
I can’t abide the checkered gardens
just below me
in black-and-white harmony
that doesn’t fit the pictur-
esque of domed and rising spires
that the hills engulf and hold;
the cars along the open roads
are moving as they would
and don’t explode;
a fuchsia flower; back on the balcony
I press my back against the glass;
they whisper rumbles as they pass.

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Filed under Issue 1, Poetry

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