Draft seven. It looks like someone coughed blood all over it, but no, that’s how I revise.
This is what I look like when I am happy to be reading a poem. Or happy about poetry.
This is not how I feel right now.
Revision
from “Protests Erupt Over Proposed Cuts to Student Metrocards”:
I met him in Union Square, where the trails of broken glass
met like a morning spiderweb. Fake money twirled around us.
Walking home, we watched seagulls land in the Brooklyn Navy Yard
and the East River shimmered every color we could name.
