The Odd Kite

You are the red diamond hanging
in the smoky air outside a cafe in Prishtina, Kosovo,
or sticks and blue tissue quickly fallen
into a litter strewn field in Calais.

You are the edge of the world
the way the world's next infant is new,
paper fish bursting into crooked toothed smirks,
shred by bicycle blown hair, shivering moon-like
over bus rides across the East River.

You rise in shrugs to meet sameness,
in arched brows about the alien,
flow like the distribution of value
into pike and perch and plover,

how the geese range through my life
pulling at strands of cloud, at willow,
the smell of corn cooking across the lawn.