A Compelling Velvety Voice

Dust fine as talc unfragranced and pale, a road
eerily untrafficked though now and then

disordered by cars, overhead the cold pearl of the moon
and thudding film memory

where a biplane’s cutting-off engine struggled through
smoke of dawn, dying in bare daylight

if not directly over the roof under which people slept
then close enough my darling

is it too late
up and down the road doors slamming

the small plane disturbing crows’ sleek unseen bodies
sheen of feathers uprising

First appeared in Denver Quarterly