Submissions
first poem from the season of fear by John Sweet
september
without warning
a man i know has left
his wife and boy
for a married waitress with
three children of
her own
a car burns in
the breakdown lane on I-88
the days fall together in this way
with a late summer sun
hanging always over the hills
to the north
with the news of minor tragedies
meaning less and less
and i’m reminded of
the suicide queen’s father on the
day of the abortion
how he shook my hand and looked away
and i’m reminded of my sister
and all the bruises she
never spoke about
there is a need
for beautiful words to place
against all of this anger we endure
but my mouth is filled
with ashes
my hands are cold on
the steering wheel when the woman
on the radio tells me that the
east coast is in flames
that the innocent are burning
with the guilty
all of their screams
as terrible as the sound of
anyone’s god