I’m lying on the grass
looking up at the flatiron.
Around me the sounds of work
the flattened vowels of Pittsburgh, Chicago.
I’m thinking of the electric sky
and how it’s all too grand, too much.
The sunset swoops like an eagle
behind the two sides of the building
like the sharp edges of my
the smell of rosewater
and at my feet
the dying grass.
This poem was inspired by Alfred Wolmark’s The Flatiron Building.
My name is Patricia Osborne, born in Wales, now living in Brighton. I teach English Literature and write poetry.