Flashes of half-remembered
people pop up sporadically,
this is known and nothing
to be done. Forgive the naivete,
not knowing the procedure here,
struck still by the glancing blows
of what has yet to be worked out.

The inexpressible works itself
out in the daily rearing
of livestock. The plucking
of boiled feathers off
carcass. Left in tobacco
fields, in drying barns
where children risked
themselves playfully.
Porpoise tendency
submerging, the vessel
shakes in anticipation.

Wearing these travel pants
stained with itineraries, I wake up
and realize that stages of descent
are infinite, taking into account
headwind and ground speed,
guesses of voicestreams.

Widespread glances at
the nexus of transit to
somewhere else–the shape
of home. The flashes of light
too irregular to be a beacon,
the rationale of a storm.