upon yawning commute for the 9AM—the reluctance
of a realworldolescent—nearly a hundred birds: a species
small and gray, urban, name unknown to knowledge,
swooped about in unison above the still, accepted wait
at light of red: finally
something natural, worthwhile. introducing change
to my mundane: flight school, artwork in the open air.
swift, wheeling maneuvers behind each unidentifiable
and momentary leader, anonymous but for milliseconds:
the decision-maker switches every time direction does—
the useful beauty of anyone initiating a new acrobatic,
no matter how ephemeral.
in the sight of which, overwhelming the well, feeling
lately like I’ve been typing into a typewriter without paper,
never wanted a light to stay red so bad before in all my life.
—from Poemergency Room (Otoliths Books, 2008)