Oakland Poem by Steven Federle

Steel slugs slam
into black, shattered walls,
dim cars grinding
down sanguine streets
careening
into the black well
of night.

The sun,
dropping into deep,
inky waters
shines
on some other world,

and the pale moon
pours thick silence
into the portals of our ears.

We lift our faces
into black rain,
to purify sullied eyes
left bloody and dim
by the death of children,
the strangulation of faith.

She watches and weeps
And waits for words
she longs to hear,

“Ave Maria…pray for us sinners, ”

and at once dropping
to bended knee
gazes
into His human eyes.

“now and at the hour”

The hour of a million sins
The hour of deep silence
Come home at last,

“of our death”

as bitter wormwood bores deep
in the bowels of our fear.

Smiling,
she intones her answer,

“Amen.”