Loading...
Loading...
Click here if you don’t see subscription options
(iStock photo/Claudiad)

Only the next day could
The mystery begin,
Its shocking fount of sparks
In darkness now a memory,
And the cooled cylinder
Drowsing on the charred smear
Of driveway. To approach
In the abandoned silence
And lift it up—which has,
You think, by someone been
Forbidden—and to smell
The singed gunpowder, rich
And sweet upon the nose.
The colored wrapper brittle,
Peels back and flakes away.
To strip with thumb and finger
The first and second layer
Of cardboard inlaid circles,
Their leading somewhere deep,
The ashen edges sifting
Down, powdering your knees,
In search of what ingenious
Center that caused it all,
Just hours ago, to flare
Up the obscurity
With brilliance and power
But seldom seen, and never
In that bare heat of daylight.

In search of what ingenious
Center that caused it all,
Just hours ago, to flare

More: Poems
Comments are automatically closed two weeks after an article's initial publication. See our comments policy for more.

The latest from america

The conclave that begins next Wednesday to elect a successor for Pope Francis is the first in 46 ½ years for which the Vatican hasn’t ordered a set of cassocks from the two best-known papal tailors.
Papabile: How do conclave watchers come up with their lists of the next pope—and should we trust them?
Inside the VaticanMay 01, 2025
The people of God see the bishop of Rome as a teacher, but they also unquestionably see him as a father.
J.D. Long GarcíaMay 01, 2025
Since the death of Pope Francis, lists of his possible successors have proliferated on social media and in newspapers. Should you trust them?
Colleen DulleMay 01, 2025