Thursday, October 26, 2017

A Bitter PIL to Swallow


                                                                    Seattle
                                                             


                                                                           Seattle

Sky Harbor
The flock of pigeons rises over the roof,
and just beyond them, the shimmering asphalt fields
gather their dull-colored airliners.

It is the very early night,
a young brunette sits before the long
darkening glass of the airport's west wall.

She smells coffee burning
and something else— her old mother's
bureau filled with mothballs.

Her nearly silver blouse smells of anise
and the heat of an iron.
She suddenly brushes sleep from her hair.

I have been dead for hours. The brunette
witness to nothing studies her new lipstick
smeared on a gray napkin.

The fires of a cremation tank are rising...
she descends into Seattle
nervous over the blinking city lights

that are climbing to meet her flight.
The old man seated next to her closes his book.
He has recognized her.

And leans into the window
to whisper, nothing happens. Nothing
ever happens
.

Norman Dubie


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