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Fear and Logic

Citizens, we were hoodwinked.
They played our hearts

like funeral bagpipes so doom
was in our blood, so death

was the shadow of tomorrow
that charcoaled the office party,

the family picnic. We were
spooked, Citizens. Our evening’s

soundtrack was the first black key
pressed on the piano, thunder

hammered from a wire.  
Any minute a phosphorescent

window and the ceiling
on our backs, our bodies

dusted with drywall. But then
we were dreaming, Citizens—

if the sun yo-yoed beyond
the green hills, if a river

flowed backwards and up
a waterfall, if a beheaded

magician pulled his own head
out of a hat, it made sense

as it always will to our eyes
when they are closed.

David Hernandez

Sarabande Books

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