Multitudes

[Richard]

Hey thegaslights,
There are some nice images in this piece. However, I find myself struggling to understand some of your message here. I'll go into more detail below:

There is a girl down the street,
stepping slowly aside your passing car, -This sounds like the speaker almost hit the girl with his car? Was that your intention here?
watching the gravel thrown
and the birds that scatter or stare.
She sits down to empty tables -I'm not clear on how the speaker would know this.
and hides behind hung dresses,
they shiver with each broken
breath. -I like this line break to emphasize "breath." My only question is why does she breathe in broken breaths? 
 
If police lights catch your eye
will you blink? or think -The first two lines here make me think the speaker did almost hit the girl from the previous stanza with his car.
of your awkward first words or
cultural divides that hide behind
every dollar stretched over continents of grief? -I like the image in the last two lines of this stanza. I just don't understand what they have to do with the overall message of the poem.
 
I can’t help you. -I'm assuming this is the speaker talking to the girl. Am I right?
We used to gather every Sunday.
Some would stare at the stained glass -I like this line as a way to describe the church going experience for some people.
and some would step into the streets
amid passing cars and sidelined eyes.
 
Does it help to ask for whom? -I have no idea what this line has to do with the poem. May be I'm missing something. It wouldn't be the first time.
 
I reshare numbers that bury me
in intersectionality pressed useless. -I don't know why the intersectionality is pressed useless here.
I sit at my empty table and gulp
down the reams of fear, obligation, guilt -I find this image a bit too abstract. May be think about using an image to communicate this idea more clearly.
while remembering the light in the fog
of my childhood was a held hand,
with a quiet eye that said you are
welcome here, come back. -I love the last four lines of this stanza. The image is just wonderful. My only question is who is the person the speaker is talking about here? For some reason I envision a priest. I don't know why.
 
I sigh and stare. -Stare like the birds? Was that callback intentional?
Where are my feet? or where
are the flashing lights that cut
through galaxies of thought -I've read this poem multiple times, and I still have no idea what this going on the first four lines of this stanza.
or minutiae
or malice
to find me
or you -Is the "you" here the girl from the first stanza?
or compassionate and clinical allocation
of hands held?
 
It’s no comfort but
physics, maybe
we all know the billions
less than one. -I like this stanza. I just don't understand it has to do with the girl, the image of the church goers, or the childhood fog.

To be honest, this poem feels like there might be too much going on in it. I would ask yourself what is the most important message you want this piece to communicate, and once you decided on it, revise it to emphasize that message. I look forward to seeing where you go from here with this poem.

Keep writing,
Richard