Machines
- Machines
Outside of town, thousands of frogs chortle And whistle like the frantic sirens and screams Of an apocalypse, but only the theaters Are full. Aliens have invaded the earth
Once again. We are never alone, not even The man who pulls his wife closer in bed To keep her silent. Her thoughts are like pigeons that crowd The sidewalks of city parks. The sun rises
Over a misty lake in a starving artist’s Painting. It’s the last thing they agreed upon. Throughout the town, public art stands At the ready like unnamable metallic
Creatures awaiting a secret message to strike. A dumpster bears the spray-painted warning: HEAVEN OR HELL AWAITS YOU as children twirl Yo-yos with Copernican precision.
A man whispers how machines control Us all as he watches the toys churn gears. Pizza delivery vehicles careen Around corners like the National Guard
On maneuvers. There’s a price for being first. Morning has returned, the sun between The slats lacing their arms like rubber straps. Late night static on television gives way [End Page 950]
To a commercial involving local store owners, Toddlers and canines at their sides. Families are Truth. In Hartsburg, children smelly as goats Or dogs, run through lawns covered with pumpkins.
All is calm but the festival crowds are days Away when cars will jam the road through town. Proclamations will shine like copper doorknobs, Their closing sentences held together by hinges.
Anthony Butts has poems forthcoming in Giant Steps: The New Generation of African American Writers (William Morrow & Co.) and in Our Souls Have Grown Deep Like the Rivers: Black Poets Read Their Work (Rhino Records). He is an assistant professor of English and creative writing at the University of Dayton.
