The Old Neighborhood by Carrie Vaccaro Nelkin

I waited for you sixteen years,



spurned the quiet, easy lover



to crouch low



from gunshots in the park at night,



scratching at the grime



for what I knew was there



but seldom found.



And you, aware my heart



was always one step back,



tensed away from me. Today,



the bodega on the corner



is a bright cafe, its glass



encasing scones, not 



deflecting lead, sun



soothing ginkgoes



and gentle sycamores on streets



where, once,



frail facades and boarded windows



had a sound,



a beating, pulsing, thumping riot



of graffiti dissonance,



now muted



into restoration and the wildly surging



interest of those



who see the good bones underneath.



I am a jilted spouse. I stiffen, smile,



glad to see you so serene 



at last, thriving, light, 



awash in what you found



after I gave up and left.



 



(Originally published in Third Wednesday, vol. XI, no. 2, Spring 2018)

About the Poet:

Carrie Vaccaro Nelkin’s poetry has appeared in Third Wednesday, Honeyguide Literary Magazine, The Orchards Poetry Journal, Writing In A Woman’s Voice, and elsewhere, including previously in Ephemeral Elegies. Carrie’s speculative fiction has been published in Supernatural Tales, Bards and Sages Quarterly, Luna Station Quarterly, and other places. She is author of the horror novel Snare. You can find her at cvnelkin.com.