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| Former Hospital Building Angel Island CA Photo by Neli Moody |
| Crossings Angel Island August 2009 Then, It was a hum And the dead stood feet to shoulder, sacrificial brass-buttoned pylons, one atop the other Waiting. Cables and spires were intermittent pulses Across the bay and the diseased lay in their beds Listening to the pause between tug and release. And in the swamps of Georgia a slave Stopped, hand to pounding heart His breath swelling, diminishing the brackish waters. Clouds of bees hovered and the fields of Europe Were scarred with young men in flight Their lungs yellow with fire. “America,” the immigrants said, Their hopes in small drab bundles piled And they ate and slept and ate and slept. |
| atalantacreative |
Later,
New soldiers, singed pua in their hair,
Turned in their cots, one ear to the sky
Japanese planes buzzing in their dreams.
Detainment, containment,
Yet once, the native people fished
The broad bay and hunted mule-eared deer.
Did they wonder about the sound
Like something plucked, that seemed
To come from a city that had not yet been built
A ghost of something about to rise
Across the waters, humming?
Neli Moody
New soldiers, singed pua in their hair,
Turned in their cots, one ear to the sky
Japanese planes buzzing in their dreams.
Detainment, containment,
Yet once, the native people fished
The broad bay and hunted mule-eared deer.
Did they wonder about the sound
Like something plucked, that seemed
To come from a city that had not yet been built
A ghost of something about to rise
Across the waters, humming?
Neli Moody