Transpoesie - Poems

To the airport

supposedly you’re coming to the airport to get me
but in reality you get in a taxi and are going back 
driver’s cigarette smoke beats against the glass like in a fish tank
your voice does not hit the phone instead hits that parking slip
as if to the airport
but back (america becomes an island) making a fist
(truck’s air freshener swings through the prairie mist) 
coal smeared fingers someone drawing that bird from the poem g. a. alcools dry (fields rolling up)
and indian ink pours out all over your lap
no one ever sings about a man’s lap
still more frightening still more secret
but such thoughts can be thought through in the air

kilometers
vertical
between us

Translated from the Latvian by Ieva Lešinska
Published in: Six Latvian Poets. UK: Arc Publications, 2011