a light
flashes in her eye
and a galaxy forever changes
spectrums from yellow to red
but the speed of light is diminished
to a halt
one scream arises from multiple mouths
and is cut by the reigning silence
of the intersection that no one cared to stop at
mantled steel and frozen expressions
are shared
among the participants
the sounds of distant crowds
with mouths agape
hide the whimpers
a wave swims to the scene
and takes the evidence
away
into the blue, cloudless sky
the light turns green again
but no one is left to stroll through
* * * * *
Subway Portables
She smoothly opens her door
and welcomes me into her boudoir
of orange upholstery and musky aromas
I sit in a corner near a window
but she yells destinations
and draws my attention to the space within her four walls
I open my familiar book and cautiously gaze down
but she sits her representative near me
who shows me the paper distributed to her every corner
I nod and say that I’ve already heard the news
but she continues to force me to read her publications
I guess that’s all she knows
she slowly sings ‘summmerhill’
and invites a band of silent guests
into the room
we all sway rhythmically
with the motions she provides
no one falls out of tune
her trumpet blows
at the arrival and departure
of each guest
this is why I have come
to hear
her sweet trumpet blow
~ Gabrielle Wilkon is a 23 year old student learning about the body and vigorously scribbling down words on the side. She is a co-creator and editor of a student zine and an occasional contributor to the Kinesiology paper, “The Flying Walrus.”
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