Stabile Poem by Ange Mlinko

I wake to light jackhammering, and news
follows: a plane
failed over the sea. All want to go home, but drastic curfews
obtain from a meridian.

* * *

We are a long way from a sea that cedes
black boxes from an area
forested as the Andes. Instead, a Mercedes,
black as La Brea,
leaps from the backlit red, anonymous,
when we try to cross
at the traffic island discarding hibiscus
with every wind-toss.

* * *

We are a long way from the courteous lilac
or waxwing
with sensitive feather tipped as a kayak
is tipped by a coxswain.