Bangs Poem by Francie Lynch

The boys ran
After the ball exploded
The bedroom window.
Shattered glass shards
In indiscriminate flight.

The ants re-grouped
To build after
The red-cherry erupted
The hill like Pompei,
Scattering serendipitously.

Grimmacing quarter moon
Pumpkins lay in hodge-podge
Pieces on All Saints Day.

Suitcases, clothes and neckties
Stewn on a runway
Like a kid's bedroom.

We move from order to chaos,
Like the third light
On a match.

I was lead to believe
Displacement Laws,
Science, and regular
Bowels could explain
Explosions,
So we can lift the stones
On Salisbury and Newgrange,
Or re-arrange grains of sand
With projected order.
We only have a beginning
And an end, while living
Through the explosions.