Foundry
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Commute

I hop off the 5
at Bowling Green
and can’t remember
if I turned off my stove burner
before I left
my apartment in Crown Heights
 
I remember rushing
to pour water
from the whistling kettle
waiting 4 minutes
for it to steep
over coarse grounds
I remember my front door slamming
but don’t remember
turning the deadbolt
walking to President Street
or swiping my Metrocard
 
I remember giving up
my rush hour seat
to an older lady
in a tan trenchcoat
who looked down at me
like she didn’t expect me
to rise for her
I remember watching her
realize her own disbelief
a moment after it hit her face
hearing a mumbled Thank You
as she slinked down to her seat
 
I don’t remember Atlantic or Nevins
I remember remembering
I need to exercise more
passing Borough Hall
because my old gym is there
next to a Shake Shack
I remember the crisp, colorful lunch
I’d rushed to pack
in stainless steel
while the kettle came to a boil
I knew I’d eat
a cheeseburger instead
 
I lose a breath tripping
over a loose stair
and look up
at the park
I’m surrounded
by chipper tourists
in bright Canada Goose parkas
lining up to pose
in front of the Charging Bull
sculpture
gripping its bronze balls
in their hands
while smiling
for smartphones
 
I see tourists
asking cops
to pose
for photos
see the cops
oblige with smiles
decide to wait
for the impromptu
NYPD photoshoot
to end
before passing
in front of the smiler
taking photos
I wish
my patience was a courtesy
to out-of-towners
or the art of photography
but I’ve learned to avoid
the gaze of cops
assigned to the morning shift
 
A power-walking man
in pinstripes
carrying a cup
of coffee gyrating over its edge
cuts through the scene
just before the iPhone flash
I tag behind him
the same way I often trail
white people crossing
busy intersections
against the light
Picture
Pat Arnao. Threshold, 2014. Harlem, NY. Photograph. Courtesy of the artist.  

Candace Williams is a Brooklyn Poets Fellow and her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Sixth Finch, Lambda Literary Review, Bennington Review, and Copper Nickel, amongst other places. She earned her MA in Elementary Education at Stanford University and has taken workshops at Cave Canem and Brooklyn Poets. You can find her walking her pit bull down Nostrand Ave, watching too many episodes of Murder, She Wrote before bed, and subtweeting the white supremacist capitalist patriarchy (@teacherc).
Pat Arnao was born in Brooklyn, New York. She has a BA in Painting from San Francisco State University and an MSEd from Hunter College in New York City. She is an artist, advocate, designer, and teacher. As a youngster, she spent time in her father’s foundry with furnaces, fluid metal, and machine part production. These industrial influences have marked her work. Common and naturally found materials come together in her work to create an unexpected dialogue. They describe the tendency of boundaries and memory to deform under the stress of time and the weight of experience.
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  • Home
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