Waiting, phoneless and wifeless
wondering about change

How everything could become noise
random loudness and alone

Or waiting in noise wifeless
jet propellant eight particulates on mucus membranes

Or wondering at the airport
on the mutability of the human frame

Or wifed taller, her with dark eyes
six feet tall

Or wifed blonde with jet noise
prayer five times a day

Or wifed brown skinned short haired
fedex envelope in hand

A name without object
a white skinned envelope without address

Wifed with moth wings
when landing lights overpower moth path to moon

Dust from a moth’s wings
falls, so many motes suspended in airport air

a wife says “essential, even these motes of dust have minds.
One of them could now be her.”

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.