image from wallpapercave.com
poem submitted to "The Avengers" poetry contest, Robert James Ligouri, sponsor, February 26, 2026
Tony rouses, his circuits buzzing, the taste of copper lingering in his mouth. A battlefield stretches behind his eyelids— always the same one. Natasha counts her scars like rosary beads, each one a prayer she never spoke aloud. The red in her ledger has faded to rust, but the weight remains. Steve stands at the window, his reflection a stranger from 1943. The shield leans against the wall, waiting for hands that feel too old. Thor’s laughter shakes the rafters, but the lightning in his eyes dims when no one’s looking. Asgard is a ghost in his voice. Bruce folds his rage into origami cranes, tiny and precise. The other guy watches from the shadows, quiet for now. They gather where the sky is bruised with twilight, a fractured constellation. Although the earth keeps revolving, we humans applaud their brave enterprise.
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