Going to a Concert

I know it was probably an isolated incident.
Still, we have tickets to see Future Islands
in Pittsburgh less than a week

after the bombing at Ariana Grande’s
concert in Manchester. You and me
and two close friends will be in close

proximity to throngs of strangers
for what has become a popular band.
I know it was probably an isolated

incident, but it does not take a tragedy
for a concert to become full of sudden
lights and screaming. I am not looking to fear

anything. But I am thinking of the children
who left their homes that night with the sunrise
in their eyes, expecting to cry only

at first familiar beat of their favorite song.
And I am thinking of the parents,
stopping at the arena with a car full

of excited kids, telling them to be safe
before watching their beloved become
silhouettes passing first into crowd

then crowded door. And I am thinking
of parents picking up their kids with
a frantic search through running bodies

and lights but only finding smoke
and sirens and sobbing, songs
we fear we’ll hear.

(originally published in Constellations, Winter 2021)

Even Netflix Is in Debt

There’s a vast swath of land infected by the living
dead. The desert, the plains, the cities– all beheld
by glow of screen, and we’ve dug holes too deep
for bodies. Just pray there are no more casualties,
no gunshots, no cars striking crowds, whether in
the USA or Spain– all of this is beginning to look
universal, the hatred of our own. How we pay
for the debt the nation’s entrepreneurs designed.
There’s an endless spate of horror
films upon which to feast our eyes but look
at the people walking down your street harboring
the fears society cannot afford. There is still
ample land to lay graves– land founded on holes
we placed bodies in yet we distract ourselves
with everything, looking for the next lark
to keep us living. Under blankets in living
rooms with lovers, under stars aglow through
open window, we watch the drama unfold.
We know the protagonists will always
find a way out of suffering.
Those through the window never do.

 

(originally published in The Rising Phoenix Review, Winter 2017)