Two Poems by Sarah Etgen-Baker

by Sarah Etgen-Baker

Urban Meditation

The subway whirs—

a thousand hands press close

in warmth, not fear.

Streetlights blink like

fireflies trapped in chrome.

Laughter climbs brick walls,

a thousand lives buzz,

entwined—

The city breathes.

We're not alone.

Stacked Hexagons

The city is a beehive—

hexagons stacked,

each buzzing with activity

morning, noon, and night.

Streets: wax-thin, sticky with footsteps.

Buildings: golden, leaning into each other,

their windows humming with fluorescence.

Every corner is a chamber—

workers trailing in, workers trailing out,

carrying briefcases instead of pollen.

The queen? She’s a rumor—

a shadow in the penthouse,

counting her hexagons,

her kingdom of glass.

And the honey?

Oh, the honey is the noise—

the honk and clatter,

the murmured deals,

the laughter pooling

in elevators,

thick as syrup.

We are all bees here,

dizzy with purpose,

lost in the comb.