I barely recognize it. The sharp fence in
the waning desert. It’s so compact inside,
it’s hard to see behind the window. But in
every angle, I can see the city behind it.
The night, birdless. Unnegotiable. I like
to think I’m somehow making this land.
This endless expanse, blown over. Except,
I cannot enter the city. I’m far from it.
It seems like the world has changed,
and I am at its edge. In this room, I wait and
see, the neighbors passing, again and again,
until they leave the frame, the brown gate
and its ruts, the rustic ground. I wonder
where my neighbors are hurrying to.
How many more days I will spend
watching and waiting. I try to feel
invisible. And the night adds
to itself. It excels at filling time.