Construct Cup V 2.0

Rebellion

Prompt for: June 4, 2014
Theme/ subject: Rebellion (Treat it anyway you want)
Words to use: crawl, curious
Forbidden words: He, She, Him, Her, War, guns, weapons, freedom, fight
Other Criteria: Minimum 10 lines



Rebellion

Oppressive heat waves sizzle
off pavement to crash and crack
against crumbling concrete:
inescapable drip and flash ignite--
sparking fevered word, fist bullets.
Sounds vomit
from opened windows:
splat of palm to face, while
toddler tantrum wails
cascade to pool and fester.
Torrid, greasy steam belches
up through the rusty grate;
fetid subway breath.
Reggae rattles rap
as mortar crumbles under the onslaught;
layer upon layers of tired, of buried,
of blanched and bruised dismay.
Exhausted women stoop
before peeling doors with cracked glass,
no numbers and no future.
Fried onions, fish, anything cheap
coats the dusk:
the day, wrapped in last month's news.

Saranga Esposito:
golden skinned, milky eyed
with long, white hair,
gingerly crawls through a window
to stand
on the fire escape and sing.
To Saranga, it is a balcony,
overlooking a village square back home,
where pots of flowering bougainvillea
line the street
and ivy trails through
wrought iron gates designed to decorate
rather than protect.
Saranga sees women gather, laughing, to fill
clay pitchers with cool water from the well
or carry tomatoes in their colorful aprons
as they hurry home
to dinners of chicken or beef
spiced with sweet herbs and joy.
Saranga can no longer see anything
but chosen memories.

Even the most jaded look up, curious,
as sweet notes take flight,
soar above the bleak landscape
then rain down visions
of lush green fields, of waterfalls,
of loves found, then lost, then found again.
Many who hear
cannot understand the words,
but they can understand the song
and someone smiles.
Another hums along.
Trashcan percussion adds harmonious layer,
a toddler stops crying, a television is turned off.
The grandmother on the front step taps taloned toes
as the man in Apt 623M puts ice against a stinging cheek
and a wife apologizes. Baritone voice
joins in from across the way;
different language, but the melody is the same.
The chorus swells as two couples sway
to the music; more succumb to temptation.
Colors blossom on Delancy Street.
Thermometer cannot register, but it is cooler now.

There is no real escape,
no way to win the battle,
but for a moment
a homesick rebel
made the fires cease.






Fyn

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