Images

When I close my eyes, the movies start:
projected inside my eyelids,
against the darkness of my room.
No trailers, no previews, no censors;
just snippets of fears and catastrophes,
of mistakes and might-have-beens,
crammed into corners,
camouflaged by the everyday
till they (almost) disappear.
Yet, like submerged balloons
popping (inevitably) to the surface
insisting on their screen time.
Tonight it's the violent smack
of body on vehicle--
shattered glass left in its wake. heart
hammering at the shock.
Tomorrow,
the screams of other horrors:
guns; shooters, unhinged,
but well-supplied with ammunition;
children, lost, maltreated, murdered,
there, in my internal movie,
there, in the daily news.