someone somewhere
It wasn't the first night
a guy was yelling
loud enough to wake me as I
was dreaming of someone
in a trance on Highway 101
crying out that he was Jesus,
when I woke up to someone
shouting to no one. I couldn't tell
how far his fury was from me
but as I lost my dream's dying
I know someone is shooting
someone somewhere
someone is lighting the sky with
the red of blood and grief,
blinding white flashes
earthquake-loud battles
cannons, rifles, bombs,
blasts of rage and sorrow,
and I cannot stop listening
for someone somewhere.
- © Carla Sarett 2020
Carla Sarett's recent work appears or is forthcoming in Third Wednesday, Prole, The Virginia Normal, Hobart and elsewhere. Her essays have been nominated for Best American Essay and the Pushcart Prize. Carla lives in San Francisco.
No comments:
Post a Comment