As All the Blood Dries

The year moves
like a curtain with
the window cracked
or shimmers
at the bottom
of a pool.

I wasn’t in the crowd
when it all went down,
the statues shattered
all faces red
with breaking
teeth.

The chalky air
from all the smoke
and blue flames
from the pipes
torn underneath.

A disposable camera
half crushed
by the rushing mob
just flashing and flashing
high into the clouds.

The taste of salt
or sexual mirage
the only comfort
as all the blood dries
on the sword steel,
as all the blood dries
on her twisted shaking hands.