Michael Mackmin
Loss
Moonlight over the islands
I dream
the camel-crowded streets
of Samarkand I imagine
and how there were singers
in the boat and how the boat
moved opening a path across a mirror
and how the camel driver knew
there was no journey’s end
the singers filled the boat
and how the western adventurer
tried to wet his lips
and looked for markers in the sand
where there are none
nothing to show there ever was a way
and none sober enough that night
to find the lifeboat shed,
but stood amazed at the rockets’ bang
bang the falling starshells of distress.
Page(s) 47
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