Brooklyn Dervish

 Around and around, a thousand revolutions

             Around and around, with ever increasing speed

                        Around and around, won't you join her?

                                   Around and around, all through the night

This night--
I saw a woman spinning
on the street corner
like a Brooklyn dervish,
holey sneakers
smoothing the concrete,
kicking up gravel
and old candy wrappers                                        

This, the story
of her life:
ecstatic visions
born of mean streets,
muttering mantras
that will likely go
unheard & unheeded—
always have been
why expect
different this evening?                                       

I try to listen,
I want to see
what I might learn
but quickly find
I lack the vocabulary;

my palms
are too soft--
my shirt cuffs
unfrayed                                       

I have nothing to offer
but cold change
culled from couch cushions

I wouldn’t dare interrupt.