Going up
Out on the balcony A’s drag artist friend is talking about ‘replenishing minerals’. It was in the news apparently, a slow downbeat of an idea gumming up the waste disposal. Our host appears discouraged by the indeterminacy of the project. The structure is now on jacks and due to be lifted higher. No one knows where else to go with it. Noises from the street, suggest a procession, or maybe gridlocked traffic, an emergency vehicle trying to find a way through. Meanwhile the party ‘…meanders into a fluid execution of many details.’ H advocates ‘more granular approaches’ a way of bringing everything down to eye level, the logic crepuscular though referencing an earlier system of flags. T suggests a classical analogy involving masks. Later the meaning wanders off on its own past the familiar landmarks though there’s still no sign of a border.
Simon Collings lives in Oxford, UK. His poems have appeared in IS&T, The Interpreter’s House, Neon, Sentinel Literary Quarterly, New Walk and Brittle Star. https://simoncollings.wordpress.com