Vantage

We cannot see the airplanes,
but we hear them
behind the gray sky
getting as far away
as fast as they
possibly can.

A human eye dangles
down by just a tangle
of blue and red veins,
pupil still expanding
and contracting.

A man wearing
a trash bag as a poncho
stabs a knothole
on a crooked tree
with the handle
of a hockey stick.

A girl stands taller
than her man
wearing her
heavy boots,
her only jewelry
a silver key dawned
as a necklace.

The last train leaves
the station right on schedule
it’s square windows
points of orange light
out on the distant bridge,
and before anyone
can look away
it vanishes beyond
all range of sight.