Apr/May 2005 • Poetry |
The Houses in Queens
The houses in Queens,
on the way to the airport,
have tar-shingled roofs
pushed down by the rain,
and sky-
gray
aluminum walls,
held to by the wind
of the rushing-past Manhattan taxis.The houses in Queens,
blurring, speed by,
late for departure
or just now arrived,
so set down in haste,
on the way off to somewhere:
the city,
the Island,
the sea.The houses in Queens
crouch behind rushes,
crowd quiet at angles
to the road to the airport-
waystation taxi place,
now go away.