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Gingko
you should open up
it doesn’t have to be about your
small intestines
or a ventricle
the clouds in your eyes
a freckle shaped
like Australia
light pollution in the night sky
scaring stars from their
lightyears
words you hustle to write
before mapping a route
to the local airport
be more like a cat
spend your lives
freely
grasp the introspection
of razor claws
leap into a photo
of a film of a show of a play
be four steps removed
but so close
you’re whispering words
alert her skin
the super-sensitive nose
that sends you to a washcloth
to wipe away
the cologne of words
so you can open up—
she’ll be at the airport,
standing atop an escalator
wearing a yellow dress
in every life you live
rain soaks the gingko tree
fifteen fan-shaped leaves golden
like the ones she painted
on swirling green walls
you should open up
~~~
Entrance to Subway
for bill
there’s a passage written
by a Russian composer
the wind in a graveyard
there’s the sound of Bill Evans
every time I put him on
there’s the sound of a subway
two rats fighting
at the bottom of stairs
there’s the sound of Rothko
painting the subway scene
narrow figures growing more narrow
there’s a train approaching
always a train approaching
lights burning blue and red in the dark
there’s a stairway down
to a club under the street
in a city of the departed
there are more tunes than
you can name but no matter how bright
they’re dark
there’s Bill Evans playing the note
a bassist needs to tune
with other notes so quiet
there are announcers speaking
other languages welcoming and naming
the trio the light long gone
there’s the fact of the sun
almost gone in words
we’re going to see a show
there’s the lateness
will we make the set?
there’s only so many hours left
death comes very early

~~~~
Copyright 2025 Adam Patric Miller
Adam Patric Miller has taught high school for 25 years in three states and currently teaches in St. Louis. He is the author of the book A Greater Monster, a collection of essays selected by Phillip Lopate to win the Autumn House Press Nonfiction Prize.
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There is the sound of Bill Evans from when Fred was alive, memories relived through a poem. Thank you.
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Both poems stay with me and beg to re-read.
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yes, they do
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I love the use of anaphora in “Entrance to Subway” — like the returning sounds of the trains coming, stopping, going, coming, stopping, going — each time with all these different lives going to all these different directions…
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anaphora: repetition with variation. I had to look it up to remind me, but yes, I hear it now, Laure-Anne.
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“she’ll be at the airport,
standing atop an escalator
wearing a yellow dress
in every life you live”
Love these poems.
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Thanks, Stephanie. I do too.
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“Entrance to Subway” is excellent.
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I agree, Don. Although Adam is known mainly as an essayist, I admire his poems as well.
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