CITY

You reach the city past countless,
Fire-gobbling tunnels, a frozen storm drain
In moon-drenched fields.
Someone abed in nearby dwellings
Hears the squeaking of valves,
The asphyxiating breathing of iron.
You alight there during another year, another night,
But whither are you wandering, if it’s already the past?
Scarce is your baggage, some books, letters.
Hands pointing to some pocket track,
The terminal station, the final ticket.
You get to the city hostile and rainy,
The grove smelling of the autumn,
The creaky gates covered in rust,
Gray boardwalk along the river
Of silent funereal motorcades.
I can make out your passing body,
Through the windshield of oblivion, rotten flowers
Of that which once was, laying siege
To your naked remains, and I behold it all drift apart
With the moist gaze of a dog.