I am dreaming of Phoenix’
who failed to escape the flames
suspended in a row along a wire.
They are there for inspection
They are there to be claimed.
One has a pair of my earrings on.
I am in an airport, or
I am in a warren of a train station tunnels-
a campus for departures.
I am preparing for my escape
I cannot look away for I am immersed in the landscape.
I put crusts in my pocket for later –
also a folded raincoat,
and headphones that I rip from a pile of discarded technology
thinking to use them in my exile
but they remain planted on my person like memories.
I keep passing the birds – warnings-
cautionary tales that I cannot leave behind
of those I cannot rescue
or those I hunt like a bird of prey.
Later, on the train I notice we are going in circles.
Every trip we start at the same abandoned story,
thinking one day we will rebuild it,
only have it rise up to greet us the next time, like a new familiar horizon.