REVERSE GRAFFITI

The moon is a communion wafer, cracked
above the Manhattan skyline. A lanky
woman brushes dust, grime, and soot
off the side of a building. A new one
emerges: One World
Trade Center. The alley
dimly lit, perfumed with detergent,
like my mother’s hands, on the day
she collapsed, and went
to Mount Sinai Hospital, never
to return. I cry. The evening speaks
in raspy neon air, urging,
rise, rise, rise.

Joey Nicoletti is the author of Cannoli Gangster (2012, Word Tech) and three chapbooks.  He is a former poetry editor of Puerto del Sol, and he currently teaches writing at SUNY Buffalo State.