Photo by Dayne Topkin
6.2.20
(with a line from Mary Oliver)
Brian Dickson
I walk through this neighborhood
with things in my mind
of little importance.
New dirt paths in the park,
with increased foot traffic, equals
bad for grass.
You live here?
You live over there?
You are masked neighbors.
Hooray for microcollisions!
On the way to the train, a banner:
Black Lives Matter.
A sign: Blue Lives Matter.
I am the only one
on the train.
Where does a prayer go in here?
I want to speak it
for five minutes,
for its spirit to fog
the windows.
Rubber bullets as prayers,
tear gas as prayers,
bonfires as prayers,
plywood on stores as prayers,
curfew and safer at home
as prayers.
Downtown, half-empty. There is
little of importance on my mind
except
my dentist.
Prayers ricochet off
silent 16th Street, grinding
a golden dome.
Grinding home, let us
be prayers
on trains till we stick.
(with a line from Mary Oliver)
Brian Dickson
I walk through this neighborhood
with things in my mind
of little importance.
New dirt paths in the park,
with increased foot traffic, equals
bad for grass.
You live here?
You live over there?
You are masked neighbors.
Hooray for microcollisions!
On the way to the train, a banner:
Black Lives Matter.
A sign: Blue Lives Matter.
I am the only one
on the train.
Where does a prayer go in here?
I want to speak it
for five minutes,
for its spirit to fog
the windows.
Rubber bullets as prayers,
tear gas as prayers,
bonfires as prayers,
plywood on stores as prayers,
curfew and safer at home
as prayers.
Downtown, half-empty. There is
little of importance on my mind
except
my dentist.
Prayers ricochet off
silent 16th Street, grinding
a golden dome.
Grinding home, let us
be prayers
on trains till we stick.