The earth shook,
rumbled steady roll,
like the subway leaving Chambers,

heading for the Center,
sky turned night, came down.

Debris,
soft quiet,
snowfall, deserted

ancient Manhattan,
the southern tip,
where east meets west

at a point
where neither

is what it was,

along gaslight streets,
immigrants stroll,
sing silent carols,

forbidden hymns
for fallen angels.

© Carlos Chagall, 2013