Fears

They are like clouds on days
when there are no clouds or flat
characters in works of fiction.

One goes past them, knowing
that they stand near, breathing
but not fully vested, hovering

just shy of the third dimension,
traced lightly in pencil. That
they may have saved one once

from childhood embarrassment
or cauterized an ideal with a kiss
in no way qualifies them

for perennial attention. Go past.
Turn the page with a decided swish.
But as they live, I vouch for them:

the anonymous, the invisible—
these who have lost everything.
For them the bombs are not real.

They believe only in history.
They have no impression
that they leave an impression.

Copyright © 2005 Rodney Jones All rights reserved
from Five Points
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission