Monday, November 9, 2020

DARE

One day, one minute, 
one instant, 
a certain structure, which 

someone somewhere 
once was immensely proud of, 
collapses—

no demolition, no thunder,
no hurricane—just 
collapses. 

Perhaps 
due to humidity-induced
cellular expansion;

perhaps
when a sandpiper's sand-dappled
wing flaps 

three thousand miles 
northwest, on the coast 
of Alaska.

Now, go ahead; 
try to convince the council.
Tell us which words 

from which 
chance encounter we'll remember. 
Tell us 

whose action 
will matter
the most.