Tuesday, May 01, 2012

There (and Back Again)

Tired, waiting at the door
yet another rehearsal.
Deportations.
Surrenders--
blur

On folded legs and wheels
we've accumulated maps
for wrongs, words,
and soon--
an edge

I learn to suspect horizons
and they harbor storms
their pennant winds
find us, rush us
clean

_

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how CAN the kids be alright?

Nu had just raised their hand to answer a question in Spanish class; I'd just landed in my office and poured myself my first cup of tea....