Today’s choice

Previous poems

James Benger

 

 

 

Out of the Ash

We tore it all down
just to watch it burn,
standing in that alley
of forgotten refuse.

No one wanted it,
no one needed it,
so boombox and cigarettes,
bottles and pipes,

we ran riot with the fire,
unrestrained screams and smoke
rising higher than
our collective ambition.

And it was a forgotten place,
so the only light
came from us,
and we lit up the world

as though we were saving it
instead of destroying that little chunk.
But maybe in our wanton annihilation,
we were creating something new,

something intangible,
something infinite.
Flames burned down,
and we exhaustedly flopped

onto moldy abandoned couches,
recounting the glory that was us,
and never once to our own ears
did any of it sound hollow.

 

 

James Benger is the author of several books of poetry and prose. He serves on the Board of Directors of the Writers Place, and on the Riverfront Readings Committee, and is the founder of the 365 Poems in 365 Days online workshop. He lives in Kansas City with his wife and children.

Martin Fisher

Inside, in the half-light, the iron rot took hold.
Forgotten service–obsolete.
Salt-coin neglect.

The money flowed inland,
Moored on an hourglass choke.
No one told the sea.

Amirah Al Wassif

Beneath my armpit lives a Sinbad the size of a thumb.
His imagination feeds through an umbilical cord tied to my womb.
Now and then, people hear him speaking through a giant microphone—
Singing,
Cracking jokes,

Mark Smith

In the portacabin that morning, men smoked
and looked at last week’s paper again.
There was no water to fill the urn.
The first job – to get connected