Pat Nolan, after Philippe Soupault

FLIGHT

Everything’s gray and stupid
books are dying in store windows
I’m well aware carriages are on their way out
and over there
I crossed the threshold
memories fade
projects dissolve
fingers drum

FLASH

Was that the phone
bright thoughts blink out
one step forward
twig snaps like a shot
death follows bloom

bending over
landlady crosses my mind
           
FLAME

Torn envelope fills empty room
shove aside memories
one more try

forgot my suitcase

*

She smiles seductive
She pretends to be salvation
She holds out her hands
She makes magic signs
She prowls without a sound
She has the stealth of a wolf
She speaks not
She waits by the side of the road
She doesn’t say her name
She has that faraway look
She’s as close as this
She knows just who’s expecting her