Glass amnesia
blocks the rays of the sun
but only when lovers lock tongues
dancing in the shadows
trying to forget the world.
The streets are full of echoes
ghosts in suits and dresses
their feet moving but going nowhere
as the world spins
on an axis of rusted nails
under the weight of forgotten promises.
Happy children with little feet
bare and tender
caress their only mothers lips
soft against weary cheeks
kissing them farewell
as they march off into the twilight
of urban decay.
Tiny soldiers in a war they don’t understand
their laughter swallowed
by the roar of distant bombs
the sky opening up to swallow them whole
lifting them into oblivion
where memories are just dreams that refuse to die
The city hums with a low feverish buzz
like a dying insect trapped under a glass
its wings twitching
struggling to remember
what it means to fly.
The buildings lean forward
moaning
waiting for the final collapse
for the streets to fill with
the blood of forgotten wars
the rivers running red with the tears of mothers
whose children never returned from the playground.
Death strolls down the boulevard
a cigarette hanging from her lips
smoke curling into the shape of lost souls
twisting turning
before fading into the blue-gray sky.
The soulless politician tips his hat
to the beggar on the corner
a nod to the soldier lying in the gutter
a wink to the lovers dancing on the edge of oblivion
their tongues tied together in a knot of desperation
forgetting that the world is burning
that the night is creeping in
that the end is always just around the corner.
War lingers in the alleys
a shadow with an assault weapon
a whisper in the ear of
every man every woman
who still believes
that there’s something worth fighting for.
It waits patiently
for the moment when the last flicker of hope
is snuffed out by the cold indifferent wind.
The trains roll by
empty but for the memories
the screams that no one hears
the faces pressed against the glass
eyes wide with the knowledge
that the end is closer than they thought
that the world is just an incinerator
and they are the actors who have forgotten their lines.
Glass amnesia blocks the rays of the sun
but only when the world stops spinning
when the dancers fall silent
their feet tangled in the threads of a dream
they can’t escape.
© Richard Gordon Zyne