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.”

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Read more in this issue: Interview | Critical Essay | Writing Prompt