Infernos

Infernos

as Virgil knew

hurtle us 

against our will 

into the deep end of the too far away

where we do not belong and should not be.

Time betrays us.

Safety abandons us.

and hope forgets our name.

Houses

with their

welcoming light

and songs

of rattling dishes

mumbling televisions

and tumbling towels

turn as silent as a sinking ship’s

telegraph key.

Closets 

where cargo pants 

and cocktail dresses

lived side by side

above a battalion of stilettos

and sneakers

are decimated,

as sculpted roses

chirpy bird feeders

and Little Tykes cars 

turn into black ash shadows

like 40,000 acres of

family album ancestors 

who smile and pose

with Coney Island rascality 

as they perish

like the ignited ghost images 

of nitrate film.

In the end

long before this hell can been contained,

we are left

a congregation of despair;

too young to die

too old to start over

on the dark side 

of the vanquished moon

where 

for now

all we can do is gather 

in this lifeboat of undefinable night  

wail at the stars

And wait

like God’s children

for the resurrection of dreams.