Untitled (Rambling) Poem by Joanna Hamilton

And they won’t stop coming
this onslaught of verbs,
conjunctions, expletives,
adjectives, transferred epithets
Moving history forward
holding back:
The storm of soldiers
marching blindly
through the streets
Fire at random,
frighten the innocent,
anger the sinful –
the conspirators revolt –
they will not be silenced
though their gunshots leave naught
but a puff of smoke
on the still air –
the ripple barely audible
not the “plunk” of a rock
in a pond –
Shouts erupt
a volcano spewing lava –
screams tear the air to
shreds
leaving it dismembered
and shaken –
A cool breeze blows
the embrace of death
as words settle silently,
softly,
upon the still waters.