• That Day

    I remember that day
    out in the sticky August heat
    he slept in his wooden box
    not hearing the
    sticks ticking
    on drum faces painted black
    or
    the silver tears of
    a trumpet
    crying through
    the stilled hearts of
    the crowd waiting
    waiting for him to come out
    blue uniforms guarded
    him in his box
    until the last pat
    of steel
    on broken soil