Nurkse, "Under the Cloud"

We ran in all directions --
to the vest-pocket park
or the blocked tunnel --
it was OK to run,
there were guards in uniform
lumbering beside us,
we fell into a gait,
not too fast, each
terrified of stumbling
or trampling a straggler.

As in a dream
you think *fire hydrant*
and come to a hydrant,
you think *father*
and come to a father --
we were pure consequence,
innocence, that force:
*step, step, step*:

but strangers bucked our tide,
squeezing past us,
searching our faces
briefly, *not you, not you* --
they were the ones
who had lost a child:
then the crazies who live
for the end of the world
marched brandishing signs:
*Repent*: at last
the off-duty firemen
called back from Bensonhurst
came cradling their axes
gingerly against their chests
so we wouldn't be hurt,
striding carefully,
flattening themselves, turning
to let us pass, keeping their eyes
fixed on the plume
and the radiance behind it.


D. Nurkse

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