After

by Chuck Augello

No one remembered why
only where, and how it felt
when the roadside box
grew wings of smoke
and metal rain pierced the sky.
 
Survivors crawled
beneath an amber fog,
seeking vengeance,
forgiveness,
and something to buy,
 
but they found only bones,
bodies ripped,
the dead stacked like firewood
in a city without fire.
 
Orphans dashed between the trees
clutching food scraps and rags
while actors in greasepaint
and red rubber noses
staged passion plays
for the dazed and blind,
 
and the quiet guy
from St. Mary’s on Tenth
grabbed the Good News
and stumbled down Mercy Street
his breath choked with ash
and bitter I-told-you-so’s,
 
and no one remembered why. 


Chuck Augello considers revolution a halfway decent idea.