Lady of metal, Your Zeppelin Awaits

Three hundred useless business cards

from the job you quit will be

three hundred bookmarks

in a library

that catches fire and falls right

out of the sky.

All that rain in the forecast

will be of burning words.

Do you remember the smell in the air

while Yellowstone was burning?

We were in fourth grade and our city

was hundreds of miles away,

and it taught us the weight

of distance,


You could stand at the top of the steps

that led to the playground

and watch time crease the ridge across

the valley.

All that wind and rock and time

before a set of steel doors clanged shut

behind us.

If trapped were the word,

we'd say it.

If born were the word,

we'd be it.

Flip a coin and find

the finger of god in that rock crease,

it's still there.

He tossed a piece of plastic on the green felt

in Reno,

then went home and died there.

Some are born of forgeries, meaning

they are forged.

It's been a long time.


I stayed behind after the bell rang once

and carved your name into the paint

on one of those clanging steel doors.

It's still my dearest crime.


Andrew Baron is Distinguished Artist in Residence at the Mall 205 Olive Garden in Portland, OR.

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