is how the green container cranes are numbered 
on my way to work driving over the duwamish river 

i try not to let it bother me but the shadowy 
interrogation room lights up and there are smoking 

detectives gesticulating threatening cursing 
the port authority official who unfortunately 

looks asleep sitting up eyes unconcerned 
with numerical order but the bad cop asks why why 

the good cop suggests that maybe it happened 
due to an emergency and has never been switched back 

the sleeping man who is actually the buddha  
describes the plum blossoms along lucille road 

explains how spring arrives like a running toddler 
extols a temporary lack of illness in a sick world 

the bad cop points to a photo of the crime 
his finger wagging the good cop implores the official 

to put it back in order for continuity and the public peace 
but the buddha laughs and laughs 

and turns the ground into water the walls into freesia 
the ceiling into gentle rain 

Photo by Scott Ferry (7 March 2022)

Scott Ferry

helps our Veterans heal as an RN in the Seattle area. In former lives, he taught high school, managed aquatic centers, and practiced acupuncture. His writing appears in American Journal of Poetry, Cultural Weekly, KYSO Flash, MacQueen’s Quinterly, Misfit, Noble/Gas Qtrly, Slippery Elm, Spillway, and Swimming with Elephants, among others.

He is the author of four books of poetry: These Hands of Myrrh, is now available from Kelsay Books. His first collection, The only thing that makes sense is to grow (Moon Tide Press, 2019), Mr. Rogers kills fruit flies (Main Street Rag, 2020), These Hands of Myrrh (Kelsay Books, 2021), and Sea of Marrow (Ethel Press, 2021). He has two books forthcoming in 2022: fishmirror from Alien Buddha Press and Skinless in the Cereal Aisle from Impspired.

Author’s website: https://ferrypoetry.com