Poem: Any Old Day
Across the table
We take our hands together—
For no one knows the hour or the day.
Still, a summer morning gathers strength due west.
Here is our desert city, tied to a crane-necked lover
Whose shut eyes twitch with visions of the good life.
This Las Vegas, her blue angel in the bone yard;
Veiled tranquil gaze, no longer in need
Of rehearsal. Svelte mastery,
Like a shadow cast by momentum,
May be found leaning against faded ironworks,
Venerated plaster, chips of paint.
Outside we sit in sight of towering reflecting pools,
Like magnifying glass. We don’t wait for fires
To catch, but interlace fingers and ask—
How will we answer
The relentless bribe
Offered us today?