No one was watching when the sky fell
unseen mind still mired in distant fires
inaugural sins the wind’s candor screeching
tires the only answer
Affairs usually end where they began
paradigms shifting paradoxes jammed
your face’s familiar as my mom’s name
or the taste of my own blood the doves
got used to the chains
Notes:
The ephemerality of living in an empty city. My hope was to find myself here, inundated with
passing remarks and forgotten questions. Streetlights are mocking in their ephemerality. Most
things catch fire here. Riots slowly.
J.L. Moultrie is a native Detroiter and multi-genre writer who communicates his craft through words. He fell in love with literature after encountering James Baldwin, Hart Crane and many others. He considers himself a modern, abstract expressionist.