lightning

photo by Wei Wei

A man slashes
the night sky,
which
turns out to be Dali’s canvas
with dried paint, peeled eyes.

Being proven wrong,
he can see nothing more.

“Do we know what we know?”

Menace crawls into the room
some hold their breath, blind their eyes,
yawp and wail
until a hand turns on the light.

The end of rhetoric
is not where blaming begins.
A line goes on forever
for the infinite dots she is willing to connect.

I’d rather be a stranger and not assume.

Note:
The image used in this poem is a piece of a series created by my friend Wei Wei. We’ve collaborated on another poem.