Down Marshall Ave Poem by Darrin McMiller Jr.

Every head darts through the heavens
As if the very stars exploded,
A mangled body rests on cracked pavement
Alongside broken glass reflecting horror on tiny brown faces

The scruffy gathering covers eyes, mouths, and ears
As the days, weeks, and years of a life poorly spent
Spills on the only street one wino has ever known,
Who only veered as far as the nearest liquor store
For one stands on both corners,

The ground, so inconsiderably littered must now be cleared
Thin wires with plastic white casings drag behind
Pink skirts, thin ponytails, and colorful beads

An errant pass imprisons a deflated ball
Beyond a rusty fence with dull razors
Until the early morning scramble,
Or at least until it’s stolen by a neighbor

The last curious gazer shuts the door behind him
As curly haired girls and boys peer through barred windows
At a flood down Marshall Ave
The crimson parade on October 6th
Proceeded silently for 3 hours
As no one dared to call the police,
Or knew the number

Like moths to a flame the flies huddled
Around a mush of flesh and protruding bones
Laying eggs in scattered ponds and uneven mounds

At last the fabled horns split the autumn air
As a red truck and blue lights
Signals the domino closing of every curtain on the block
Be it tattered sheet, unsuitable drape, or dirty cloth

Door knocks turns knobs left
As no one answers the door,
And says no one is here

Frustrated or indifferent
A hose is summoned and blasts
The remaining mass down a storm drain,
Leaving only the smallest fragments in the park