I had two old beds;
their headboards
of blue sun mica
were the most beautiful
things in the world.
There’s World War II
over the lime-washed buildings;
you can see the fighter planes,
the pilots in their
helmets and goggles at night…
Broken, shabby houses…
run-down bars
animal people talk…
Naked men and women,
emaciated, speaking
some strange language
join us in the streets…
In the morning when I wake
I notice the sky has backed
deeper and deeper
into silence…
The above poem is from my second book Circling the Sky (2013).
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