On fireworks

I came across an unfinished set of poems, begun sometime during the summer, probably around July. I think I had intended to complete the thoughts – something about dancing and light and dancing light.

I haven’t posted a creative piece before, but want to put these somewhere, and I guess this seemed appropriate. (The difficulty of not writing that last sentence with a question mark at the end. Yoh.) Okay. Here goes.

 

I.

We sat under the trees near the pastry store
A circle of memorial and sharing, two days after the attack at Pulse in Orlando.
People spoke their poems
Danced their hearts
Passed around pages to write and draw
And it was so different to the Stonewall vigil, where it was all Politics and loudspeakers and police and anger.
Here, here it was open and sad and beautiful and anger.
We saw a firefly, flitting its way between hats and flower crowns
Slowly floating near elbows and clavicles and low tree branches
And I thought
It’s been so long since I’ve seen the stars.

II.

We went to watch the 4th of July fireworks at East River Park in Bushwick.
We got there really early and ate falafel dripping yoghurt sauce
And sat in the rain, whining but determined
Watching people leave, fed up with the hardening droplets.

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