At the airport
I am the great unwashed. Anne and Phil’s hot water system was on the blink. They tried to repair it by trading one joint and a bottle of wine but still it ran hot then cold.
My boots
Earth stained
Red salt lake mud
Beach sand
Dirty socks
Over lay my stink with clothes
Think of violets
Death of youth.
If I text
reboot
respond
reignite
reinvent
repeat
revamp
restore
reply
reply
reply to me
I crouch on the airport floor
animal
scribe
traveller
pilgrim
sadhu
child
hadji
crusader
I crouch
On the plane the woman across the aisle has perfect red painted nails and lips.
A child behind reads the emergency instructions and asks, Is this what we do when we crash?
Still Life
three glasses of poured wine
three humming computers
three missing tennants
three unwashed cups
three fruit trees dormant
three lives on hold
afternoon light in the kitchen
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