Diaspora
walking on 16th street
the last temptation
city of angels
the red moon
the red balloon
guiding me to the corner of
madison and
san francisco
call of the dust that
rises with the wind like
pine needle scent
beacon of the summers we
put off
playing out of doors and walls
to watch old movies all day
and then
come back to the park where
we went to dream in
opposite
directions
drumming of the bass
jukebox cars on
the window
heartbeat
on the old green couch
red chair
his jacket on the floor and
on this corner and
out of the back of my head
out of the nightside
out of the wilderness
i let him go on his way
on the bus
on the train
i must sharpen my spirit
against the cold turnstile
i must lean against habitual skies
waiting for clouds to gather
or smoke
or pigeons
or the eyes of pigeons
on the ledges
i must run my fingers along
wrist to arm
believing i never knew it well
i must recommit to memory
the vague meanings
of doors
and gates
and fences
fix in my mind
his mouth
his eyes
his hand on the table
the hair at the
back of his neck
his back
already a kind of boundary
a shadowy yearning i notice
as it shambles out of the room
an hour passes
or perhaps what seems like
an hour
in syllables i will not
hear again
no matter how hard
i listen.
Deborah A. Bennett is an Illinois-based poet whose work has most recently appeared in Wales Haiku Journal, Heron's Nest and Africa Haiku Network's Mamba Journal.
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