but then I saw
indignation in its purest
form

distilled in their mouths
the ovens of
rage

leaving their bodies
soaring up into
the sky

souls launched with
the advent of the last
sigh

the miniature
kites

a forest of fists I saw
hovering over their
heads

once tucking their
children
in

each fist the size
of an extracted
heart

the empty nests
in a chocolate
box

but as they passed me I saw
my hand
trembling

a vacillating fly
uncertain whether
it should stay

    fly away

            or die

[Originally published in Vox Populi.]

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