The Black Napkin Volume 1 Issue 3 - Page 18

13

ruins

by James Jackson

I.

Bullets ricochet

in every entered home

and they are similar

to ballet, a delicate

do not fall wherever

you cannot stand back up

but pirouette anyway–every room

spins the opposite of you.

II.

Hair on the surface of bleeding

bricks. The house of

violent storms. Mortars

with every step.

III.

Heaven, the insurance premium,

costs far too much.

IV.

We are legless because

we cannot stand. Wingless

because no one believed

we would fly again.

V.

During construction,

no one built us for the long-term.

There are nails in every crook

of skin–every place you look.