Another's Wind To Blow
Walking around a
Mythical town
That doesn’t exist
Looking for what
I would never find
I trod those same streets
That I had been down
In my dreams before
The sky barren
Except for the sound
Of the exodus
Of wings
Hovering over people
All moving away
The backs of their heads
The only thing visible
As they marched off
Into the dark
With faces and eyes
Mortgaged….
To pay for all the things
that they would never do
In debt to one last promise
they will never keep
The terms of their indecision
written in the blood of repetition
The movement of the hawk
—another’s wind to blow
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)
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