masses: flight

     painting by Marlene Vine, poem by Roy Herndon Smith

it appears to be
a grid of structures on 
a tan to deep brown 

surface scored by lines
that along one side widen 
into light patches 

i do not discern 
signs of present life—no green
no blue, no movement

perhaps a plague, a war
or heat killed everyone off
leaving a ruin

perhaps a remnant
hide from the sun, or perhaps
it's full of people

in underground homes 
and gardens flooded by light
filtered through skylights

i'd have to touch down
to find out; safer to keep
on flying alone