Emirates
the world ends everywhere,
here, the barren salt waste
crushed up against a desert
shore.
and everyone is everywhere also,
the standard flux of this
modern plateau. time is unfit
for progress; we have done it all-
but here where the sky is challenged, its
endless eggshell blue pierced
bright and bold by earthen metal-
all the unwieldy motion of war and
guilt
and
want
lies waiting as they create
one false gleaming snow-shadow.
the sotto voce vein of truth
wends its way back
through the desert to
where a little american
is hanging up his phone,
taking off his shirt,
and dreaming about winter.