Did I Miss My Entrance, or My Exit?
on a bridge crusted with ash, bearings lost, I roll out from under
a back-seat dream of progress and ask—
what place is this?
on my knees: bodies jostle, and I am scourged by drumbeats—
how am I here?
on my feet: but my sky-view’s marred by arms as branches, shaking
fists, and stiffened fingers: darkness punctured by digits—
I can hear my heart’s rattle—
in a radiant city (near, not far) wingless bodies burn
at every intersection (walk, don’t walk) wheels turn against flesh
as the last bus heaves into heedless traffic—
on a wall, scratched and scarred, a charcoaled flower sheds petals.
Jude Marr teaches, and writes poetry, as protest. Jude is currently a PhD candidate at the University of Louisiana at Lafayette, and also poetry editor for r.kv.r.y. For links to more work, or to buy her chapbook, Breakfast for the Birds, please go to http://judemarr.com.