sorrow blossoms emit
light spectra
descend
circus spun
a creek across
death’s felched seed
fallow as the end of time
all the nothing new that
came was like
a paper crown on
memory’s propped corpse
whole fields of dandelion
ghost rhythms oscillating
in a cellular pulse the past
consumes
helicopter wings thrum
fountainous bludgeoning
baton-brought blood down
my forehead drips the hot salt
metallic red sweat seedlings
from the wet of my rung wound
but we tried to steal from ATMS
we disobeyed the sun again
we were bloodied by
a passive song
swells lacking a
mouth to inhale tear
gas plumes the peace
breaks out in
siren song blaring
below the moonglow’s
curfewed aching for
a future that won’t
come unless
we bring it
here
Joe Rupprecht is a poet living in Philadelphia. His work can be found in Prolit, Soft Surface, Heavy Feather Review, The Poetry Project Newsletter, Full Stop, SAND, Peach Magazine, New Delta Review, and elsewhere. TWITTER
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