poem: small human memories

thirty day poetry challenge
day 08– ‘all gone‘

the marionette, the circus trouser-smile and the man
with no face: all gone, except what might come up
at tea-time or during the screaming,
between sex: when she explains I was, he was,
he was; and whoever is there to listen,
listens, or maybe does not — that is the sign
of the times, that people do not
listen, like they did (or did not) when Caesar screamed
out on the marble floor and the blood reminded
one senate member, a nobody (even to the people’s
champion, William) — of his daughter, and the cuts
on her hands the day she told him;
and the cranberry juice on the windowsill, smoking
in the rioting plebeian sun; they were berries from
the previous year, the feasting year, when his
son had come home and he had thought —
this is peace,
I am glad to be alive.

2 thoughts on “poem: small human memories”

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