* * *
And then the rotten eggs
cracked on skulls.
And then the scouring
in stale rooms with papered-over windows.
They taped up their mouths.
They cut off the phone lines.
They stuffed up the cracks along the baseboard.
But the last day was just any other day.
The magician in the park drew the usual crowd.
Couples on benches were imperfect and happy.
They were just like us
and the nameless day before,
easy, like a coin, as it rolled into today.
No one cried at the double rainbow.
No one minded the smoke.
A child sucked sweet rain
from the flesh of a watermelon rind.
Everywhere I looked, there were stars underfoot—
silver & captive
in a common ground.
Subscribe to the Hyperallergic newsletter!