West of the Skyline by Tim Wood

for Lisa Markley and Tim Seibles

leaves and distant tires are whispered 
along on the Trinity's halitosis breath        a plastic bottle
and a candy wrapper    rumble
down the street          threatening 
children
 
more leaves tatter the edge of hearing
rush closer
then away
 
as the breath comes
 
heavier        thrumming
 
slow profane hints of syllables
 
that push into the pores
and orifices of my clothes        touch
my senses        the breath
 
thickens                in the ragged
gaps porches ring        pale
air teases        draws the eyes
to try and catch the sky
                see where it ends...
        corner it
 
 
 
smell thickens down
the invisible lines
 
catches the necks of cicadas
and trills there        a scream slowly
from a child
 
or a hinge
 
 
 
        most drift
 
the whispers draw
us here        settle
onto the old concrete        it settles us
into our places        a homeless place
full of homeless
 
        breath
 
caressing... wraps... seeps                        these
 
northers comfort
and the greys of the skies
are the only mystery        dreams take

a few into other places        but    there
the breath whispers
            whispers
profane hints        whispers

they have followed            these

homeless drift from homeless
space to homeless space


in the ragged gaps    exhaust
laughs as they try to touch the sky
and the breath whispers the Trinity in their ears

Originally published in Matrix, based in Albuequerque, NM, USA.

© 1995 Tim Wood