Lines That Come at One A.M. Just Before the Inauguration
       

According to the laws here, you can't cross the street.

The sidewalk is too fragile to walk on
with both feet at the same time.

And no one will show you the black rug where the decisions are made.

The firing squad has already tossed something into the crowd.

Fragments fall like snowflakes.
You try to catch one, but you can't,
even though you're wearing your best mittens.

A story you heard on the news that was important, something
about a woman and her lost baby, has slipped out of your reach.

Outside the window, twilight is caught in the trees.

The road out of town diminishes into one-point perspective.

You squint your eyes to watch
as a parade marches by.

Music plays from a hidden speaker.

It's a great day for darkness.

Before you know it, invisibility becomes a habit.

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Copyright © 2020 Joanne Esser All rights reserved
from Rock & Sling
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission