In a city made of mud and straw
a silence in every doorway
a mouth locked by fear.
I walk daily through the sun strewn streets
my hands shooing crows
my footprints puffing settled dust.
Happily ever after migrated
to a land of oddly garbed strangers
where the sky is a different blue.
In a city full of Cassandras
remaining citizens listen and unlisten
to daily pronouncements.
Rhymes hold the ear longer
against the owners’ will, while hands
refuse to let go.
Every citizen is a harbinger
claiming a rain god is soon to arrive
as the umbrella shop declares bankruptcy.
In a city of multiple layers of dust and ash
there are ten thousand reasons
and ten crosses visible from every doorway.
copyright © 2020 Kenneth P. Gurney