Fall 2013 • Vol. XXXV No. 4 Poetry |

Future Perfect

Following the birds to the vanishing point, empty sky. Nothing happens but everything happens inside it. Scrying where there is nothing to see. Look! the Nepali clerk says, Your change! It's $9.11! Space moves around like furniture. Three dots, three girly bubbles, and erases them. A gap. Mind the gap. Tagreed, the Saudi who wears a kind of helmet veil, like Athena, asks me about an action that will have occurred before another action in the future.

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