Waystation - Lisa Papineau

As blind red breaks upon the ridge over the choke

And our bright eyes blink into the light that sets the burn

We can only lay down and forsake

Bones that join the wires to cut horizons

Lived out on the lines

Here’s what’s left behind

Lays of high thread pull and tug us back into the gray

They feign hard mouths biting through the conversating sky

Heat leaves nothing left but white on white

No night to set this lost frontier in motion

Lived out on the lines

Here’s what’s left behind

As the wires pluck and bow

I cling onto the things I left so far behind

S.O.S.

the ghost tocsins, fondest desires

But that’s what I dream about

I see I say I listen for another sign

Before the line pulls me on