Counterbalance Poem by Francis Santaquilani

In the shadows,

Against the alley side wall

Of a coffeeshop,

A pack of pale, teen poets lean hard.

Black tank-topped and tattooed.

Wearing shades, nose rings

And smoke rings.

White hands

Clutching black bound journals.

Leaking pessimism.


In the sun

And down the street,

Believers burst from a church

Spilling over the walk and burned out lawn.

Colorful as macaws.

Buzzing with fever. Still

Singing and praising.

Black hands

Waving white Bibles.

Bubbling optimism.