If charlots hold you hostage
in an ambush on a train
like zen monks they must want to
scour the flange
around worn steel poles
on the floor
until all trace of dirt is gone.
Investigate the seats
for rent frayed tear
in alligator fabric,
mending history
where word finds sight.
Dance penumbran iron
buckles on a car
that shudders seaside
shrieks of gull.
What one would learn
from this month’s ambush:
time cannot be bought
and is not wasted,
home is where the Earth is,
self is stepped to rise
past lines drawn dead
by more.
These charlots wander, band
together, searching
for another’s right
when each is
a harbor pen
from birth.
2017-05-05