shake

today.

they’re quivering
with anger
and the bark of their spines
writhes,
snakes.
I close my eyes
anticipating the explosion,
the splintered
extension
the fatal attempt
to pierce the thick
thick
skin of us all
because I saw
a woman tell her daughter
to
SHUT UP
on the subway
and my illiterate lips began to pray
please
please
don’t
because she was asking questions
with the sage of a saint
and I wanted to shake the dazed
and dusty
and disillusioned
passengers
with the fervor of my fear
and yell
BEHOLD
you have a miracle in your midst.
but I kept my place
my space
and watched her go silent

watched them stay silent

watched me be silent

like the trees
eventually.