35

and given unto us, the airfield
this solitary womb of the hangar
where the weary has come
slowly, one by one
as if from difficult passages
endless roads, nights of unsleeping, sunless worlds
to lay like wasted flesh upon the stage
feeding on the gaseous forms in this space

I let the unneeded fester in my mouth
my body rejecting orange powder
turning into sludge with saliva
I drool, let it crawl down my chin like a restless aquatic being
I’ve held on to it for far too long

the tired ones are repaired
moving on along a river of dust
freshly watered courses
that opens up to solar embrace
a terrain of grass and sand and stone
roadless yet leading the way