m.g. over baghdad

I am alone without you-

as if I knew for certain
you were flying above baghdad
and the city

was blinded;
and green to you-

and lower down,
the sun was a red disc
spitting upwards from
a canyon where a river had
been, a green river;

but you are most likely-
sitting under discretely important
telephone lines, or
in a fine wool jacket, watching
small winter ducks
cavorting around the babylon of a tiny
lake, and watching the circles

in the water,
which is not
green at all or
the color of the sky
which is

the kind of slate one would like to rest a hand upon.

but I am alone and upon
wide hills, you sit, watching
for rings

for circles in the green
clouds, which may be