by Les Gottesman
Planes without wings
bear a strange united fruit.
One seatbelt across the world as
down an aisle of epochal dementia
a blond Cyclops scuttles
like a crustacean late for a manicure.
Lesson: Don’t fondle merchandise
at the camel market of Birqash
or the etheric motorcycles
of San Francisco.
Les Gottesman’s poems have appeared in print and online journals and magazines including Juked, FutureCycle, Anamesa, Beatitude, Harper’s, Antioch Review, and Columbia Review. He received an MFA in Writing from California College of the Arts in 2011 and has been a teacher in San Francisco for over 30 years.
photo by Ed Kimber