Friday, February 28, 2014

King's Crier Podcast 2/28/14

Black Night
Standing on the safe side

of the guard rail, 

the teeming masses soon to become more rabid

than starved rats, mill about

temporarily still, like extras on a zombie movie.

Pressed against the gate, but open doors ahead

and prizes for the first. Even employees hide

until the initial run is over, afraid of frothing

madness, of errant elbows,

of hidden blades, like prison shanks,

punches muffled by heavy winter gloves,

and no holiday pay or hazard pay. 

The gate opens, first a trickle, the very front

relieved as steel is removed for their faces,

then more, and more, and more,

an avalanche of screaming flesh,

as if escaping some biblical disaster. 

I watch a woman, bundled against the cold,

fall underfoot, cradling her head; None stop.

When the stampede passes, she gets up, fresh

bruises forming around her face, and hobbles--almost

hops-- to enter, joining the others.

I pull my radio up, call the other cops.

They saw her too. We laugh. The melee

continues unabated. My friend brings me

hot cocoa. Would've preferred coffee. 

We check the slip ties and extra cuffs,

freezing our asses off. How's that for holiday cheer?

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