The man who photographed
the very first plane to hit
air was using a camera
for the very first time.
The Wright brothers never
married. Wilbur once said
he did not have time for both
a wife and an airplane.
I could put a husband,
a wife, or daughter in this poem.
You might think someone
is waiting for me to come
back home.
I spent the first day
of this new year
in Antigua, Guatemala, queasy.
I watched firecrackers
explode near my feet,
paper lanterns rising
toward sky.
At the end of the day,
I walked through
Antigua alone, saw a horde
of people in black. A funeral
march. The mourners held
photos, and flowers, crosses,
and signs. Slowly, they walked
through the streets.