Sometimes I feel an underground river
forcing its way between deformed cliffs.
—Adrienne Rich
I’m on the elliptical
music streaming
eyes glued to the pall-bearer of morning news
three overhead screens
report another shooting
50 people
killed at Christchurch—
The Prime Minister
refuses to air the killer’s name
wears a hijab in solidarity
with the people of her nation
mourns New Zealand’s loss of innocence
the last place on Earth where
this was supposed to happen
and on the world’s tallest building
Dubai’s Burj Khalifa the word peace
shines across the oceans in Arabic and English—
I barely move
more like a puppet my legs up and down
on a machine I visit three times a week
to ward off heart attacks
and my own inevitable demise
increase the incline by several notches
work harder
and to my left and right
and to the row behind me
to the news anchor hanging above
speak a silent prayer—
To all my readers: Scroll down past the links. I invite you to leave a reply in the comment box below!
Holding on to the Fringes of Love
Review of my poetry collection “Two Places” by Nina Serrano of Estuary Press.