They Too
The gray, the restless and impatient breeze
say rain, as sure as that bird in the grass
is hungry for a worm. I saw a fox
attack and kill a squirrel then carry
it away, dead body limp inside
its jaws. I happened to look up
and saw the kill.
The chimes are buoys far away and bring
to mind those trapped or dead within the sub
they’re looking for. To pay
so much to be entombed and terrified.
And immigrants abandoned to the sea,
helpless as their children drown
before they too go down.
The branches look like closing jaws
on wind-tossed air, the trees blown flags
amid the gray and chimes’ notes vanishing
in air and mind like stone dropped in the sea,
some bubbles then forever gone,
as what’s next comes to be,
the depths just glimpsed before we cannot see.
by Ed Hack
Editor’s Note: This poem’s lovely meter almost lulls the reader into complacency until the second stanza says its piece—but it’s the closing line that truly pierces the heart.
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