A poem by Cynthia Cruz, faculty member of the Festival and Conference on Poetry


I got my dream pills.

They’re wrapped in tin foil
And it’s going to be alright.

I got sweet Billy with me
And he’s still breathing and
It’s beautiful, what they’re telling us.

Got my enzymes, a nickel bag of
Electrolytes. My entire life,
I’ve been waiting for this.

I got my radio on.

I’ve got it hooked into a chip
And lodged inside a suburb of thought
In my brain, somehow.

And it’s weird, how it’s wired.

I can hear the fires.

I can hear the daisies
As they fell the desert.
Pretty machete like
Paper Mache confetti of
Dropped cluster bombs and now

I can hear the Black
Hawks wild in their swarm and
I’ve got my horses and
I’m holding beautiful Billy in my arms.

It’s like a song.



Molotov © 2012 by Cynthia Cruz from THE GLIMMERING ROOM. Reprinted with permission of Four Way Books. All rights reserved.


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