Everyone Hurts
by Richard Dinges, Jr.


Stitches in foreheads and bruised egos,
the TV screams,
until I cannot separate
the news from the movie.
Crowds demand blood
from the blood sucker
behind the podium
with stars pinned to his shoulders
and medals stamped on his chest.
Mouths turn to gaping wounds.
Eagles with clipped wings
perched in dead trees
grow new feathers.
Everyone waits for the next attack,
black columns of smoke.
The pillar reaches into the sky
with blunt black fingers
and leads to the future
at the edge of the horizon
where the sun should rise
into a red pool
so bright it blinds those
who look too close.
I wonder when we can ride
the smoke high enough
to see where blue sky
will begin again.







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