Gashes In The Metal

Bodies rotate in the river and are carried
by the current to the ocean.
No one even noticed they were falling.
There are gashes in the metal that look
like they were made with giant blades, and
she holds her hand against one while she
waits.
Air hockey tables on free play take up space
in storage containers next to old fax
machines and clothes that no one wears
or even thinks about.
They hand out flyers about meetings
to discuss whether or not the world would
be better off without the internet.
They came to no conclusions, or at least
I never heard them if they did.
The gerbils in her bedroom ate their
children, and the blood stained both
their faces for the remainder of the day.
They can’t see it how we see it, or they’ll
know that we did nothing more than watch.

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