A Poem by Aaron Poochigian

The Interval

This canyon made of windowpanes and air
(and brick, of course, brick, brick, the city’s skin)
is narrow, a forbidden chasm where,
even at noon, the sun cannot shine in.

Overweight pigeons sitting on a ledge
are wardens of this Warehouse of Unflash.
(We only come to vex it when we wedge
an air-conditioner beneath a sash.)

There are, of course, those slantwise runs of rungs
leading through landings to a last long ladder
and, bringing steam up from a building’s lungs,
that arched and hooded vent, a hissing adder,

but mostly there is nothing going down
out here. Thank God: I need to know here’s there,
sustaining, with its lull, this whole damn town,
this whole damn globe, the universe, I swear.

Aaron Poochigian earned a PhD in Classics from the University of Minnesota and an MFA in Poetry from Columbia University. His thriller in verse, Mr. Either/Or, was released by Etruscan Press in the fall of 2017. A recipient of an NEA Grant in translation, he has published translations with Penguin Classics and W. W. Norton. His latest book American Divine, the winner of the Richard Wilbur Award, came out in 2021. His other poetry collections are Manhattanite (Able Muse Press, 2017), winner of the 2016 Able Muse Book Award, and The Cosmic Purr (Able Muse Press, 2012). His work has appeared in such publications as Best American Poetry, the Paris Review, and POETRY.