What the News Seemed to Say
So easy for us to lose things,
and so many things for us to lose:
the wallet gone from the back pocket,
the car from the curb, a woman
and her child–yanked from the corner
like laundry from the line.
According to the newscaster, even our
tempers can be lost in plumes of “road rage”,
kick-the-dog rage, kill-the-boss rage;
dark clouds of pent-up anger, gathering
along the streets and arteries of America.
Fat clouds that can travel fast and settle
as far away as the Middle East. Now there’s
a place where it rains heavily. Souls
rising like cheap umbrellas caught by wind,
dark balloons rising higher and higher,
leaving us little hope that someone
on the other side will find them.
And rain forests and dolphins seem to disappear
as easily as sunglasses and gakishes. Lost
dogs who can’t smell their way back.
Homes to flood, Pictures to fire.
Wedding rings lost in all kinds of weather.
Memories locked behind broken neurons,
lives behind broken laws.
But some group in Nevada believes
they can save what’s left with Anthrax,
Who knows what
they think they are saving. I don’t
understand them. Today,
I spent the morning helping a woman
with Alzheimer’s remember her husband’s
name. She said it wrong, yet fiercely
And she said it too loudly. The sound
of rocks hitting the bottom of a wheel-barrow.
As if the road she had been traveling before the war
suddenly ended. And now, the country
between them was impassable.
from What the News Seemed to Say, poems by S. Stephanie, Igneus Press, Canyon, TX, 2015, pp.12-13.