Sonja Yelich

Bells down

Look into the sky & see an accident fall.
In one evening you walk along the sticky path
To the sea wall. Hanging in cream the datura
Bells down.
From over your head a plane points for customs
& the queue of things to come.
You have a feeling there will be many things
to declare. Or not.
On the ranges south a light plane flying to the
Left of a small mountain breaks its nose on
Poor visibility in summer. And it wasn’t Arizona.
But it was over.