Sensational

Slate-grey, flat-bottomed sky. Too close. Hung ‘round my neck.
Clammy air. Fuzzy shaped strangers, Fly by. Cuffs brown with mud.

Forgetting, briefly, how to walk.
A wet branch, with no leaves, in my hand.
The shuffling feet. A muffled sigh.
I dare to watch, by not looking there.
Another street: A dog on a chain.
A splash from the curb, in my mind.
I watch the cracked pavement.

Dirty-yellow, cockeyed car lights. Too loud. Into my ears.
Mist covered, frosted-glassed lamps, Walk by. Haloed poles.

A noise ―
I know it must be something Awful.
A cold sense, of knowing, in my mind.
Turning to look, straining to see,
Something has happened, by not looking there.
Red lights flash. I blink my eyes.
In my hand, a snapped-off twig.
Voices get washed away.
A sigh.

Hot tiny darts. Glasses steam. Red cold. Cheeks and nose.
Moist-full lips, taste the air, Floating by. Unseeing eyes.

February 1984

“Sensational” appeared in the 1988 American Poetry Anthology, edited by John Frost, published by the American poetry Association, 1988. It also appears in From These Words (poetry 1973-1988) available for download on this site.