Black Box

Death leaves a trail

Black Box                               

Pitch black

Open- revealing what’s inside

Whenever it comes

A town gathers

 

I look inside

As does everyone

At least once

To gaze upon the great power

 

Some without fear

Touch it

I can’t

I hate the power

 

It is too big

It takes too much

It always comes

At the worst time

 

Why?

How can such a small box

Hold such a big power

That haunts?

 

The town resides it

Where they always do

Whenever it comes,

In a field of flowers and stone

Author's Note

This poem was published in my College Literary magazine, "The Quill," in the spring 2013 issue.

Reviews

[Listmaker]

Oh, I see. Interesting use of the verb resides.

[Listmaker]

Very well written. Lots of feeling and thoughts of death packed into such a short poem. Is the first line of the last verse correct? Resides?

[Savannah Bly]

Thank you, and yes it is correct. resides: to dwell permanently or for a considerable time.