-Notes from the 4th-

There’s a lot going on, what with the clinging

stench of searing meats from backyards

grilling in every direction and my awkward resistance

stemming from neighborly invitations when I take out the trash.

Nighttime, and the celebrations continue

across the river where fireworks ignite over the slow

rising nature of the city.

First, a beat is struck like the pizzicato

of a stressed bass chord, the canister

shot from its ordnance, then the silent expanse,

multi-colored, born in the flash of its hub.

From this side of the river, the largest displays appear to range

from the southend of town to the north-end of town, where

from my line-of-sight, rooftops draw upon the light

as the river draws its light reflectively, like a planet
formed in liquid water revolving an arm’s length from its Sun.

Soon enough the atmosphere fades to black,

save the population’s incandescence pinpricking the hillside.

In the end, a field of stars

above the eastern horizon continue

from the face of the deep, beyond the breach, where

the glint of embers are falling.


                                                        Swansea