I’m reading Aeschylus, the coffee almost
gone. I think the gods are just our needs—
yes, forces large enough to topple royal
houses. You remind me that on Monday
workmen come again to mend the siding,
deck, and porch. And Hamlet essays still
to grade. Let’s say the sky has fallen like
a shingle. Maybe we’ve contracted shingles.
Fine. Our pain and hunger ripple out,
the Chorus fans the Furies, flames and sulfur
eat our tongues, and, yes, we’ve killed our young—
that is, the younger versions of ourselves.
I want to kiss you now. It’s lovely here
in Fall. We’re not so tragic after all.

Thomas Zimmerman teaches English, directs the Writing Center, and edits The Big Windows Review https://thebigwindowsreview.wordpress.com at Washtenaw Community College, in Ann Arbor, Michigan. His poems have appeared recently in Black Dog Review, 8 Poems, and Tiny Flames Press. Tom’s website: https://thomaszimmerman.wordpress.com