“It’s All Gonna Break”
Papery burnt skin
and beer starched tongues,
corpses stumble to the stage
to get lost in the sound.
The sound of sparring hummingbirds
when the band strikes a chord,
beguiling gothic faces
causing feet to tap the dirt.
Guitars electrify muscles
orchestrated horns pump their blood,
notes they rise and crash and fall
never damning the symphonic flood.
He told them all to scream.
And like kids atop tractors
in the pouring rain,
they let out a cry.
Then they danced and laughed and sang
Every voice and every fan united.
Until the amps dropped them,
back to pragmatic lives.
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