Three Poems

Commerce, Madrid, 2012

All afternoon the geese fly over the city. Women
in twos, waiting for men beside municipal trees.
Shopping continues. The sweet sore
rut of it. We watch traffic, like tourists.

All afternoon the geese fly west over the city, hauling
wakes behind them in strings and waves. Women
stand, disappear, emerge. It’s cold. Under glass
we hold hot Spanish chocolate. Shopping continues.

All afternoon labouring geese fly over the city. Cars hoot,
sirens fugue. Beneath bank towers, a statue shifts. A man,
blue clown, blows two-note whistles for a living.
Shopping continues. New women arrive. Others stay

and stay. Geese heave their huge hearts over the city,
the sky a stitched membrane that will hold for a day.
We watch the day end, blood orange. Men come, women
...