ithaca

i.

There’s a murder of magpies tonight
in the city, a line of people under black

umbrellas silently moving in a direction
to mirror forward motion.

Together we dreamt this image
paint strokes like rain

scratching a message to the wind.

ii.

Sound is muffled but gets through
transmitted via bird wing, feet on stones

shuffle code. A word gets whispered,
front to back, back to front

it comes through us, embodied
the way our feet make

no sound, sharing a silent echo
say it, now, fast, before it’s gone

love lost love lost love love love.

iii.

The way we lean together towards
an imagined space of coffee.

Even in the darkness, in storm, moving
towards a place we created together

a single organism carrying one word
as endpoint through this dream journey

elusive is to illusory as home is to death.