In a corridor of light and wind,
leafshadows angle and blur
onto walkways, trickle nameless
over dedications and memorials…
‘The city is sliding into the sea’
a voice engraved,
—but its motion is a ritual of forgetting:
you search the faintest dissembled smiles,
wrought always just beyond, and beyond,
and always behind a partition
you search the tunnels of each face
to falterings of skeptic feet…
‘the city is sliding into the sea’
—wisp of light, turnstile of leaves,
lift me into a tattered dinghy of air.
Kyle Walsh lives in Oakland, California, where he writes fiction and poetry and plays drums. His poetry has previously been published in Dryland Lit.