The border’s on the brink, the reports

disposed with each speculation of what.

Last night, nearly obscure, we heard

another bed through the ceiling creak

as if our enemy extends a narrow mirror

to remind us mediation’s not unique.

Now the stirrings advance at half-mast,

a bridge that tied two shores together.

I listened this morning to a buzz embed

in the purse of a spider who wasn’t home.

All those hostages are believed freed

or dead, a forecast from the seat of a chair.

Michael Robins (IL)  is a contributing editor for Born Magazine. His work appears in Black Warrior Review, Boston Review, Unpleasant Event Schedule, Verse, and elsewhere.