selfie #10: self is a machine

the sound of a machine
speeding through the night sky
wakes me

from a dream
of being cradled in the steel arms
of another great machine

small wars
have erupted through the city
small fires burn

my machine carries me
barely disturbing
my broken bones

here we lament
the ruins of this fallen place
here we see broken glass

limp party balloons
table abandoned mid-
picnic      stroller on its side

wheels crushed and broken
what I will remember is the waiting
and then waking      in all this silence