The Monarch’s March

he stands at the canyon he saw in the brochure
the bus was warm and full
but now it idles by the information bay and looks bizarre
against the endless bright blue sky
a monster
Mave wanted to be here
In August several years ago
she was abducted
and Leland waits in watch—
not just there, here, the empty parking lot
the world is in his sights
at home her light is on
he outturns his pockets and drops lint
down the sheer face of a vast cliff
people mingle, stretch and smile
the hawks from spaces too minute to point to,
from the air,
amid their silent monarch’s march
never cease to see
never cease to pray
never miss their mark

 

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