for elizabeth bishop

sonnet

photo by author.

the fire balloons disperse above chiang mai,
rise flickering until they’ve reached a height
where swifter wind streams sweep them out of sight,
or almost; as when dimmer stars deny
bald apperception to our straining eyes,
the trick’s to look away, into the night
(you must let some things go); their pallid light
obliquely or peripherally spied.

they haven’t flown for years - as bishop knew,
the chance they’d plunge to earth, ignite a blaze,
outweighs observers’ fleeting wonderment.
i’ll go back to chiang mai, once this is through,
and set their absence loose; with eyes upraised
i’ll watch the vanished fires, unlit, unsent.

alex guenther. recent interview here and book here.