San Gabriel Valley Poetry Quarterly

PETROUCHKA ALEXIEVA
On The 35^th Floor

It is almost midnight.

The large summer moon

Throws misty light

Over my shoulders.

It is past midnight.

I’m supposed to be home

At this time, but no…

I am still at the office.

Shall I go?…On the 35^th floor

Time is silently frozen.

Below

The city is sleeping,

Taxis and trolleys are slow

Blinking their million lights.

Shall I go?… I locked the door

From inside.

Until the morning,

No telephones, no meetings.

35^th floor

Is my insomniac island.

…and It is past midnight.