The City Still Knows: Christian Ianniello

March 31, 2020 Kate Belew with Christian Ianniello

I miss catching moments on trains that weren’t meant to be caught. 

The eyes of another traveling reflected back in the window, watery mirror

like raindrops falling into each other— passengers knocking into one another.

I know that you are out there, behind this new strange wall

constructed by screens and broken dreams; the broken clock still ticks

and here I am still biting my nails, and in this new world, this is a risk too.

 Yet I long for us to be covered in earth again, shoes off in the park, 

and the earth in the city still knows to sing songs. 

Just open your window and you can hear her hum,

and maybe catch the eyes of a stranger on the sidewalk just like 

the last time when six feet was a height, not a distance.