I wake to light jackhammering, and news
follows: a plane
failed over the sea. All want to go home, but drastic curfews
obtain from a meridian.
* * *
We are a long way from a sea that cedes
black boxes from an area
forested as the Andes. Instead, a Mercedes,
black as La Brea,
leaps from the backlit red, anonymous,
when we try to cross
at the traffic island discarding hibiscus
with every wind-toss.
* * *
We are a long way from the courteous lilac
with sensitive feather tipped as a kayak
is tipped by a coxswain.
Source: Poetry (February 2011).
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This poem originally appeared in the February 2011 issue of Poetry magazine