XIV

I used to be fond of airports but not anymore.

Brands stickers duty-free offers you never truly fly away.

Have I become unirradiated of the love of the world

or are my eyes pregnant with lassitude to love's exclusion.

Father from your throne of burnt matchsticks are the angels

that kiss your feet contemptible to you is flying mundane.

Tell me is growing old this, not losing things rather

keeping everything just not loving any of it any longer.