migrations/departures

migrations/departures

lines everywhere

in our path

in our words

in how we touch

each other

and the other

questions on travel:

              who beckons the sun’s return?

              what marks the hour?

              do minutes make it late?

someone told us [the uprooted]

today       your tongue will march backwards

                            it will turn a bow in its nest

and you will go thirsty

unless you learn a new name     for everything

and of your name     once melody

now cog grinding away

in a production     maquina

questions on time:

              are there still seven days?

              or one family with seven names?

where are the lines      we must avoid?

so traps don’t trigger a snag 

lines

              everywhere

a noise      demarcating      sleep from fright

a metal centipede devouring horizons

hides stowaways yearning     needing

to blur lines

we are all stowaways

              unannounced

              we come and depart

swaddled in swaths of wind

and flag