A Poem

First Reader

Bryn Mawr girl in the plaid skirt and the sweater set
Working at The New Yorker in the summer of '69
Reading unsolicited stories, smoking a cigarette,
Thank you, darling, for choosing mine.

You sent it upstairs with your blessing, a green slip,
And a note to the editor to read it and he read it.
And based on your gesture I launched a small ship
And went off in the direction I still am headed.

Years have passed since you looked my way and smiled
But to me it's happening now. I lay this at your feet,
This homage, darling, I place it on your pile,
My angel of 25 West 43rd Street.

Is it good enough? I don't know, dear. You decide.
Oh I tell you, the importance of angels cannot be denied.

- GK