Fourth

Fourth


The blues
shot out from the orgy of white
the greens sprung from the blues,
all brilliant fire
living angels' wars
flashing in the dark eyes,
coloring the hair
of the crowd of burning witnesses
below. The notes of music lost, a timeless
beat echoing in a thousand wrists and
necks stretched up,
and a man behind me says

"Science made that, son."

Then red and red
another red
and white! again and blue and red
and whistle-boom-thud all at once
the gasp
goes out from all our mouths
at that one
at the next one
and then one more green
and look at that and no,
he hasn't finished yet,
he adds:

"The Chinese invented fireworks. With science, son."

There's more. Like when and why and how
while "wow!" his neighbor cries at
a triple-flower sizzle-boom

Look at the after image in the lull between
events in the sky's own circus,
at the reflections in the teeth
of the smiling mob.
Smell the hot tired sweat black-powder
magic of it all
and do not tell your son that science made that, son.




c. 1998