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Eruption

After the sky cried there was calm
A silence pungent with unspoken commotion
A keg of violence filling up with pressure
In a room filled with wide eyes, 
Their whites bright against the blackness of skin
And hearts pounding at the realization
That this was a gathering like no other
That all those sniveling over the deceased  
Were not lovers. There were saints and Judas

The man from sawmill sniffled and blew his nose
He coughed and cleared his throat as he rose
I felt a lump in my throat but held on to hope
Lord, may he not say something stupid
I wondered if such prayers were ever answered

As he spoke I shut him out and went off on a path
I replayed the events of the most recent days
The noise from the yelling, the violence and yelps
And then the ambulance and the bad news
And yet here we were, gathered, without delight
No cops in sight and the killer free, addressing the crowd

Somewhere between my thoughts and his speech
The candle blew and the darkness deepened
And that's when all hell broke loose
Last I saw, the Wilgrow man jumped out the window
And the saints followed. There was no doubt
They were having him for dinner

Days later, Wilgrow man emerged in bandages
As usual, the righteous perished, and the killer walked

Copyright © Kenny Gwena

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