Dnipro

The front man  

for every single band  

I liked in high school  

is dead;  

echoes pop around  

an ever emptying room  

they say the Russians went  

and popped  

that dam  

now it’s emptying  

like 90s front men  

it popped off  

the pressure  

is enormous  

weight of the water  

weight of the world  

of the press  

the pop of their lights like  

pop pop pow  

and the Russians say  

it was a Ukrainian strike  

their artillery went  

pop pop pow  

so it was American shells  

that ripped up that wall of water 

just as it was an American shell  

that ripped up Kurt  

in a greenhouse, shaded  

emptying of its soul  

like a dried leaf  

like a Russian soldier  

who couldn’t catch a break  

and got swept up  

while press cameras went  

pop pow pop  

they never learned how to rock  

like me in high school  

listening to Scott  

while the boat drifted  

above the dam  

and damn I thought  

that kid’s lyrics popped; 

years later I met him  

he had pink hair  

I told him I thought it was cool  

he said  

he liked it better blue then  

pop pow  

he shot up  

two decades later in a trailer  

and now he’s stone temple dead  

and it just goes to show  

the pressure  

just builds  

and then it spills  

and everyone points fingers.  

The press does their blurb.  

Memory lingers.  

The end.