White ash,
you wait for me
as I will wait
for someone.
What but skin
feels the wind,
what darkness
makes distinctions?
Breaking down
dusk and dawn,
housewreckers
on horse scaffolds
syncopate
their hammers.
Brick dust
drifts like smoke,
tents of habitation
withdrawn,
hinges of habit
undone.
Devin Johnston (USA, 1970 -)