CLIMBING THE FIELD HOUSE

CLIMBING THE FIELD HOUSE

Get a good run;

it's steep where it arches down to meet

the ground.

It was an airplane hanger

the college bought

in carefully numbered pieces

moved from some base after

WWII.

They say it housed the Enola

Gay.

Manage four solid steps' mounting

& you've made it:

The going levels out

so you can stand

retrieve your breath.

It should be almost dark.

The security man on his rounds won't

make you out against the granite gray of

the roof.

You've stood inside before alone in

the ringed center

of the wooden court

followed with your eyes

the rows of girders curving

whale ribs

red in the glow

of electric heaters.

Step cautiously around the skylight: plastic over

wire mesh.

Don't trust it with your weight--

remember the workman who fell

twisted on the free-throw line found

next morning.

On top, stand quiet fulcrum of

the city

antiphony of cicadas rising marking

twilight.

To the west

the pink end of the day

out across the Caprock blossoms,

fades.

Lie back and spread your arms.

Stars will be opening slowly

and the very moon going down somewhere

over Japan

will work its way up to join you

the same path you just made

spending little more than a light breath of wind.