Fireworks and Honeysuckle

July Fourth in New York


Booming mortar ignitions 
black powder combusting 
rolling thunderous echoes
shooting sounds, sounds like shooting. 


inconsistent hammering 
walking on bubble wrap
resonating snaps pouring like lead shot 
cracking
staccato flashes
screaming
shrieking
loud silence
fading ghosts in every direction


Floating in a sulfurous haze
the bashful, blushed peach of a moon
hidden in plain sight.


To ride in a plane this very day,
below the clouds above here
witness to a neutral war
populated with flowers of light