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| Photo by Phil Plait, Bad Astronomy |
Birds rise, sun in their throats,
and each note sung
closes day.
The mother sobs.
Her son is dead, murdered by police.
Catalpa flowers’
whitest cupped petals
float silent onto grass.
A woman raped,
hanged, her eyes opened. A priest nods.
On the pond beyond green bank
oaks reflect; fish
pass through shade.
Isis annihilates homes,
beheads an American journalist.
Before baling, the hayfield’s
crumpled waves break
against light.
Forgiveness bleeds out.
Dawn clenches clouds like fists.
Susan Roney-O'Brien lives in Princeton, MA, has won the William and Kingman Page Poetry Book Award, been nominated for 5 Pushcart Prizes, been selected NEATE's Poet-of-the-Year, works with young writers to publish their books, and has published widely in literary magazines.
