PINK ROLLERBLADES

by Brian Forehand

Wounded people, including nine-year-old Tala Abu Ajwan, who died of the injuries she sustained as she skated near a park, are seen in the Al-Ahli Baptist Hospital in Gaza City after an Israeli army attack on a residential building, Sept. 3, 2024. Credit: DAWOUD ABO ALKAS/ANADOLU/GETTY via CBS News.

Didn't they see her there

gliding like an angel

pink wheels on her feet

wheels spinning so fast

in these head spinning times?

perfectly pink

like the walls of her bedroom

sweet wishes fulfilled

for a sweet young girl

here where wishes seem so fleeting

sweet dreams

carried away too swiftly

wings on their feet

resigned now to angels

fleeing en masse from this hellscape

pink wings replacing

pink wheels

no longer spinning

not fast enough to save her

from this frightful nightmare

pink wheels that roll no more

still and lifeless now as small feet they entomb

another angelic victim

no winged victory found

in this senseless, ceaseless war.

Brian Forehand is a creative polymath with too many interests and too little time. A late bloomer, he only recently embarked upon the cathartic practice of writing poetry. He lives in Washington, DC with his husband and their stripy cat.

SHOTS FIRED

by Brian Forehand

Again they preach this backwards gospel
Hating the sinner yet loving the sin
Protecting the rights of the assassins
they willfully arm again and again
with inaction, blind faith revealed 
in the whistling sound whizzing past their deaf ears
 
Holding harmless again this loaded gun
Vending ammo like chewing gum
triggering semiautomatic responses
blaming misfiring synapses or fiery rhetoric 
Awaiting again the false prophet’s ascension  
Fist pumped into the still pierced air
 
Anointed in blood, the worshipers witness
rushed motorcade departing
traveling this road they laid and repaved
built by their hands and blessed
with their words, this karmic path
that led them to this judgement day.


Brian Forehand is a creative polymath with too many interests and too little time. A late bloomer, he only recently embarked upon the cathartic practice of writing poetry. He lives in Washington, DC with his husband and their stripy cat.