Author Information
Zachary
Why are they laughing?
Am I too old to not carry this weight,
Yet too young to really know?
Cheeks fold over.
Hands grab at stitches and faces
Wrench with the effort of keeping in one’s guts.
The elderly women crumble to the ground.
The hysteria is veiled and menacing.
Dark clouds hang over the procession.
Only their sleeves are soaked.
Pouring rain would find these marble steps
To be a slide of pain
For six stoic men.
I would only be relieved
To let go and fall
Into the company of my cargo
On his very short
Car ride to nowhere.
This is no time to be laughing,
Laughing so hard you can’t breathe.
Can’t--
Breathe.
