The flight plane left no vapor trail, her sister
waived, sighting street costumes in sky gray blue;
not taking on the baggage handlers who’d catch her
breezy skirt in the shutter of an eye any Republic day;
then likki ting, likki ting, till the next out bounders gather.
Everybody stands, pulling down carry ons; bend,
twist, cabin door waiting 1st check. Sitting, sensible
you might seem disabled, unfit to race; breath
holding in place. How to move – borne bred
braised from bati mamzelle, douens on lime?
done with hot oil pan, kilkitay off line?
Your bags on the carousel need identity marks,
otherwise you could spend all day watching
your belongings go round and back. At Arrivals, not
kindred eyes in hoodies, muttering, seem to dress you
up and down – you’re never Whom they’re expecting.
Wait, is that you? knit hat red, cheeks peckish
smooth touch cold, all set to pinch? from blood thin
lips, How are ya? puffs back at you. O, the permanence
new in the hug hello, new fat embedding.
Alone in the basement where folks let you bide,
bundle loose near the storm door; kindness will gust
then settle for passing wind. Turn, toss the cicadas,
Aedes of Aegypt perforating sleep; sink
marks on dreams you fleshed. Log in to night
engine noise, snow silent coating.
You’ll wake to revelations –
old poet hands love stroking start up thighs; lift that
veil, heart that steel. When you’re clear to launch, step
over Ave Marias passed out in the lobby, mementos
not saved. Cross the street – see at the corner? a store
front of Eve white roses, like island immortelles
but with price tag? Take the bus there to a far state.
They’ll see you coming miles away, like twilight
hills on fire; steady – Set your mode? – scratch burn
through their frost – curve up ahead – Crow
scare power signs, bald eagles gripping the wires
and – there, there, see? – you’re in – swing
or miss, your stem’s in play; breathe blue
particles of air,
pitch your world, work at the who you are.
– W.W.
FATES
We are of our times as peas are of the pod
which they must quit, green and sweet to be devoured
by Time, or dry and eager to be sprouted
in the hearts of infants yet to be conceived.
(from “Within the Wind” © Brian Chan )
FARJOURNEY CARIBBEAN 