The escape routeThey have solided the earth to put down this road.
We are driving over no road at all.
This road is a line, something thin to separate
one stretch of water from one stretch of wet.
On either side water issues and bleeds
from the cut vein of the road.
On either side men are standing hip-deep.
They are collecting something. Reaching
again and again past the still surface
in which you can see sky and their approaching hands.
You drove us out of the city and I stared
from the shuddering window. To begin with
it was your city and there was a great crash
when I arrived. And shuddering a long time after.
(one) In my face I could feel it too.
(two) The bridge crested and curved and brought us up.
(three) The heart and throb of the city surrounding.
(four) Packed-up, hunched into itself.
It was deafening to move through.
It was a great gorgeous riot under a grey sky.
When I woke on the plane you were
sleeping and so I listened to you sleeping
and leaned, away from you, into the window.
All the snaked-out, lit-up streets of your city
lay underneath me like an anatomical drawing.
Like a flayed figure with colored-ink emphasis
on the veins.
erickay. march 2003.
