Wings of Desire

Wings of Desire
Camels and grapes and gems
all around
            as if this were an oasis,
but my arms are full of light,
my eyes            see only light
            I mean    I can detect,
inspect,            get past the cameras
    at the school door,
            pick up the poems
of children and drop more poems
   into their light-filled arms.
   They see me              I see them
but all the rest is veiled by light.
            You think I’m “being a poet,”
but the camels, the gems, the hotdog stand
            are illusions.     The light     its absence,
are not.            I mean they were      are
             always will be              real.
   Colombo at the food truck talking
to ein Engel: “I can’t see you,
                                    but I know you’re here.”
Camels and fruits, flowers and gems, though,
            fingers and mouths and eyes.
Even Wenders’ black and white film
            burst into color at the circus.
S. Robbins, from Readings

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