Suddenly she climbs in the cockpit & has a
great facility for the controls: creeping
between the dappled concrete structures.
This
is
movement,
sontaneous
&
improvised,
some vulnerable modernism thrusting
in the slanting maw of copings. Grey
or meridian-like, these abutments starve back
through air, or through sky & lakemelt
&
sediment
of
ash as
the beach crabs
open
& close
their
brittle
pincer-arms
in time
&
tune
with the
temperate
saline fluctuation. Stop me. Down a path lined
with snow & wildflower, & simple rashes
of ailanthus, androgyny commences
wimpling forth & back in revolutionary
leave-taking,
faded on
the slopes
of the
bladed
offramp.
The
hillside
dimples
with frost:
pale
blue gone
grey in
the twilight—
Silt dances up & down the path in sandals,
some
call him Silo through the pleonastic
dune
passage.
Attention
flitting
from the
bloom
of arm
movements:
the wig
swings
in
centrifugal
revolutions,
black
on black; uterine on a flowing golf course.
Architecture,
limbs cooled in the dilapidated lakemelt. Silt
Silo, where calcium is visible in the snap
of grasshoppers: so few
remain
as warmth’s
scolding
to the
synaptic
sunflower.
Drag-
ging
their critterlike
speech
sounds
on the
slow teeth. We
need the
delayed
traces
of
“urgently”
or “sheepishly”:
I recognize
we’re saying goodbye in all this,
willing the landing of the beeping mothership.
Nothing
is as moving to me, as my own
line—as the meteors slam the pastoral hillside.
