by Ryan McCarty
The Normal Park discussion group
never posts about dreams
but last night, it imagined itself
as a handful of fingers, all wrapped
around the hilt of a sword, hidden
from the flash bangs and the cops
peering in. One lonely neighbor
was the shivering wrist that joined
us all. We felt out on a limb, together.
I don’t know the man who armed himself
with fear and fled to the dark corners
of home. I don’t know the police
barricading the block or punching
through windows, a seizure of smoke
bombs streaking wild. I know the chatter
of mornings though, how blame
can spread like sparrow shit
at the first rise of sun. But today
there’s only a droop of arms looking
for ribs to dip around, a collective groan.
Fingers are clacking at keyboards,
certain that sleep was full of solutions.
If we could just unrub our eyes and see
each other reaching out again for help.
Photo credit: Emily Mills
***
Ryan McCarty teaches and writes and talks to plants whenever he gets a chance. The clear-eyed love and support the Ypsi community showed a neighbor after he was attacked in his home by police last week proves that we are capable of real beauty when necessary.
***
This is an original poem, brought to you by Poet Tree Town, a Washtenaw-based poetry-in-public initiative and celebration of local poets. Find out more about Poet Tree Town on Instagram and Facebook, or say hello at [email protected].
