Stephen P. Miller
Recipient of the Bronze Helmet Top Poet
Award of Excellence for January 2002Can’t seem to stop crying.
These tears of clear blood
speak the muteness of so many dead.
The world is upside down and I am standing in it.
My tears are concrete grains floating upward
to form storm clouds that rush through streets,
swirl around cars and high buildings,
turning everything they touch into angel white.
Underground where bone graves turn to soil
dogs sniff, cell phones ring to no answer.
Humanity has turned the lights out on itself.
Buried beneath the rubble
my heart lies exposed.
Its silent beat so loud the world thumps with it.
©Copyright 2001 by Stephen P. Miller