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new york

Sarah Herrington

i did so many downdogs on you

i must have mistaken you for a yoga mat


in the east river.


as if


i did enough horizontal sun dances

with the earth

i’d find it






i don’t appreciate

the jitters you gave

pushing me in front of

the 6

buckling downtown


i’ve been learning to stand up to you

for years


in currents that collect

at harbors

shoot up the empire state

lightning rod of nadis, white light


i’ve made space

with eyes closed

and it’s bigger even

than you


you don’t stop

but neither do i.


balanced on each other


like two boiled eggs at the deli.

About the Author

Sarah's poetry and essays have appeared in Tin House, Slice, and the NYTimes. You can find more of her work at

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