Morning Commute
       

We rise in darkness,
rain falling
like crystal splinters
from a smashed chandelier,

knowing soon
the red shoots of the peonies
will spear through the mulch,
the ants will burrow above the frost line,

the mothers and fathers of those massacred children
will bend to the hyacinth,
a black horse at its trough.

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Copyright © 2019 Jason Tandon All rights reserved
from The Actual World
Black Lawrence Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission