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More poems by Donald JusticeDonald Justice | Print this page.Print | View and Write CommentsComments | Books by Donald JusticeBooks by Donald Justice

The Assassination

Donald Justice

It begins again, the nocturnal pulse.
It courses through the cables laid for it.
It mounts to the chandeliers and beats there, hotly.
We are too close. Too late, we would move back.
We are involved with the surge.

Now it bursts. Now it has been announced.
Now it is being soaked up by newspapers.
Now it is running through the streets.
The crowd has it. The woman selling carnations
And the man in the straw hat stand with it in their shoes.

Here is the red marquee it sheltered under.
Here is the ballroom, here
The sadly various orchestra led
By a single gesture. My arms open.
It enters. Look, we are dancing.

Added: 24 Aug 2001 | Last Read: 20 Apr 2018 12:38 PM | Viewed: 8365 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/385/ | Viewed on 20 April 2018.
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