Stabile

I wake to light jackhammering, and news

follows: a plane

failed over the sea. All want to go home, but drastic curfews

obtain from a meridian.

                                      *     *     *

We are a long way from a sea that cedes

black boxes from an area

forested as the Andes. Instead, a Mercedes,

black as La Brea,

leaps from the backlit red, anonymous,

when we try to cross

at the traffic island discarding hibiscus

with every wind-toss.

                                      *     *     *

We are a long way from the courteous lilac

or waxwing

with sensitive feather tipped as a kayak

is tipped by a coxswain.