Grey concourse, your plane glides, to the stay

With yellowed teeth, yawn, to the day

Grass and autumn dust, ants and rain

Just like you, felled against black asphalt drummed down

Figuring not for spent lightening

Vivid cracks against tar and black

An arc of her undressing on the savanna

With yellowed teeth, yawn to the day.

Grey concourse, your plane glides, to the stay

Amber signs, silently pulling Goliath to shore

Bags and pins, against headrests

stained aghast

At each and everyone who came to dance

Legs Aikido, brushed attack in lunged pose,

Nothing new

Except the elastic snap of our beginnings,

Disembarking down shaky aluminum stairs

Toward what’s new and away from what ends.

Lines and forms, we take our turns, one for one

Burnt wood and red mud, parched by fading sun

Just like her, fingers pressed against viridescent screen,

Figuring stamps and coded hews

The spin of bags along stubborn paths

Tickets and passports

Nothing new

Except the elastic snap of beginnings

With yellowed teeth, yawn to the day.

Dorian LaGuardia

March 2019