Photo by J. R. Korpa
What Do You Expect?
Ron Czerwien
Day to follow night, night to follow day?
Gods dressed like drag queens? Amorous
rocks? The throats of compliance choked
with lint? A sane package left unattended,
faintly ticking? Angels like airport security,
waving some through, stopping some at
the gate? If the package is a metaphor for
an actual child, if the ticking is actual
ticking? When the invisible chews like a rat
through your heart? After the prayers, after
the silent response? When a life is wiped
away as casually as an eyeglass smudge? A
pat on the back from the fire you fed? When
sides are chosen in the dark? A winning
lottery ticket redeemable in the next life?
A next life? To emerge from the smoke that
was once hope? For the barrels of guns to
bend backwards towards the shooters? For
the bullets to misfire out of protest? When
each of us has our finger on the trigger?
Ron Czerwien
Day to follow night, night to follow day?
Gods dressed like drag queens? Amorous
rocks? The throats of compliance choked
with lint? A sane package left unattended,
faintly ticking? Angels like airport security,
waving some through, stopping some at
the gate? If the package is a metaphor for
an actual child, if the ticking is actual
ticking? When the invisible chews like a rat
through your heart? After the prayers, after
the silent response? When a life is wiped
away as casually as an eyeglass smudge? A
pat on the back from the fire you fed? When
sides are chosen in the dark? A winning
lottery ticket redeemable in the next life?
A next life? To emerge from the smoke that
was once hope? For the barrels of guns to
bend backwards towards the shooters? For
the bullets to misfire out of protest? When
each of us has our finger on the trigger?