GLASS AMNESIA BLOCKS THE RAYS OF THE SUN

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