Junctions

Neighbors exchange gossip in mismatched alphabets
their chickens chasing them for the value-added tax

A street rings out paprika memories
its slums are renewed every decade—the dancers move elsewhere but leave their projectiles
a cap tips happily as a thought erupts bishop deviously sliding six spots to grab the corner of the board
in licensed cellars initiates stir vats dripping with measured molecules

But now a city delicately breaks off and starts to float into the Mediterranean
sharp ferrets now peep from every wormhole with beady eyes glow stalking
the scabbard bearers march through with forgotten slogans

Could a skein of junctions trucks trains passports patents and pilgrims cohere a continent?
Will stalwarts place shovels in the rich murmuring loam spread
over the ruins hushed just yesterday?

This poem was published in Issue 115 of the Arlington Literary Journal, 2019.

Andy Oram
February 14, 2019