by Amanda Johnston
March 2, 2018, the first package bomb detonates in Pflugerville, Texas
What does a bomb sound like when everything is exploding?
The coffee pot drips into mourning with the eerie buzz
of cars on the verge of collision. The world and its infinite
brink of life and breath, in and out, small bursts of the day-to-day.
And then a loud note cuts through a quiet street
announcing a terror, that has always been—is—
awake and hungry.
Poem copyright 2022 by Amanda Johnston. All rights reserved.
See more poems from Amanda Johnston debuted on The Fight & The Fiddle: “Two Americas,” and “untitled,” and “How Do I Explain.”How Do I Explain