BACK
AMAZING GRACE (FOR FRANK)
gregory heaney
And so there were twenty-one guns over Van Dyke Ave., gas actuated
bugles, harnessing Newton’s third law to deliver super-sonic prayers,
140 decibel rims that ricochet off dehydrated brains, then hurtle
outwards into the great who knows, traveling at nearly the speed of
divinity, like a signal flare fired from an island in the hopes that
someone will come to investigate, some cosmic search party, and they’ll
give us aspirin and water, and wrap us in blankets, and tell us to stop
making so much goddamn noise because, try as you like, you can’t
wake the dead.
(c) 2008 by Gregory Heaney