Sunday, January 28, 2018

Poem - The Sun Is Going Down On The City

The Sun Is Going Down On The City

The sun is going down on the city
dusk is approaching
haze disappearing in the distance
Soon the cool will return to drive away the heat
until morning
The game is over and
the loss still stings
the news returns to the carnage the next city over
that must end soon
as all things must end
You will not be your neighbor
and sink into insanity
although the fires have spread to home now and
the reporter says
the military has been summoned
prepare for martial law
until the storm has passed
Soon the shots on the north of town will be silenced
And all will be back to normal

Tonight she will be waiting for you
dolled up eyes in black shadow
skin exposed for your eyes only
Hair to perfection
though slightly out of place
her planned flaw to prove the beauty is real
TV is warning to stay inside but
life is for living and
she is waiting

The walk is different this evening
tension in the air
sound of gunfire in the distance
A great weight of expectation
hangs from the roofs
drags the vines from the walls

Suddenly the sound of suction
escape of air from the tube
whistle of the mortar
the explosion
and the shaking of the ground
buzz of the metal
gliding past your face
pellets pass by
concussion pressing air into your ears
so the whistle remains
but screams are dampened
until the next mortar
exits its smoking birth canal
and the screams come back
the punch in your stomach
from impact
rise of the earth under foot
Who is that woman pulling herself
on one knee?
Is it the mechanic’s wife?
Do you run to her or
back home
for your family
where they are waiting
where you left them
or do you run to her
waiting for you
streets away?

The tear in the firmament of air
pushes forward
missiles hit the wall of the hairdresser
expose white legs covered in concrete and crimson

Who is that shouting to God
as the sun goes down
setting like a perfect picture at the end of the street
its rays lifting out in every
direction but down
beauty burning in the midst of chaos
unable to hear the sounds of this tiny sliver of humanity
calling out for death and mercy

There is an uprising in your country
an uprising of foreigners
an army of the messengers of God
clothed in armour
Made in the USA
fashioned out of American
surface to surface missiles
drunk on feudal money
and the virulence it buys

The arc of love and hate has crossed
itself here as it has done before
when the world was in its infancy and
before you were unlucky enough
to be born
in your own time
on top of gas and oil
in the center of the earth
in the sites of the Great Central Bank
in the shadow of America
and the chosen race

Don’t worry
if you don’t survive the murder
mother will keep your room waiting
your cat will wait as long as she can
though her life will be shorter
I’m sorry to say your grandmother will give up living
though Papa will have no choice
he has to feed the children
America didn’t kill

Another rocket falls
the wall slides down
falls inside itself
roof angled down
Inside the remnants of the day
and the neighbor’s baby girl
For a second the game flashes through your mind
missed goal and celebration of Australia
can’t remember the score
Why would you think of football
at a time like this?
as the gunfire gets closer
the sound of the suction of the mortar
repeats and so the
whistle and the shock
of falling back to earth

You reach the steps of what was your home
no windows
no walls to hold windows
no curtains to block the blood
that trailed through the veins of your family
for generations
and the tile of the kitchen
until reaching your feet
check the house
for anything moving
goodbye kitty
check the rooms
what’s left
follow blood trail
goodbye grandma
Mother and father were out
Yes, they were out
there is hope

Dash the street again amongst the whistle and the whine
The popping rapid popping
screams now white noise
Streets look different
Where is the shop? Where is the liquor store?
There is a cavern where it should be
Whistle and whine
You have found her
In time to feel the pleading in the touch of your lover
For mercy
For end
For escort to eternity
Silence of the vanquished spirit
The vacancy of eyes that once
Beheld the Mediterranean by candlelight
Hand in your hand
No time to say goodbye
Who is that in the grey light?
Are they coming to drag your twin from the rubble
or are they taking aim?
Gather up your life now
Forget the patterns you had woven yourself into
The patterns are broken
The coil of time and love has come undone
This is the year of the slaughter
It is time to have it out with America
On the soil of your ancestors

Brandon Turbeville © Copyright 11/15/17  All Rights Reserved 

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