Know the Fear

By Benjamin Nardolilli

Police Brutality by Fedele Spadafora

The alley…
I can, ought, to be ashamed,
Do you feel drifting logs,
The sylvan scene
Over endless plains?

I hid in the well,
suffocating
with eleven disciples
all of us blind,
I was giggling nervously,
the latch opened
and there was a glow,
I admired the rising
and the picking of bones,
so many new patterns to notice

Dead mountain,
consider my Thersites, who
twit twit twit
was living, is now perfumes,
through a window, city, city,
I can water only
the other side

Ben Nardolilli is a writer currently living in Arlington, Virginia. His work has appeared in Houston Literary Review, Perigee Magazine, Canopic Jar, Baker's Dozen, Thieves Jargon, Farmhouse Magazine, Elimae, Poems Niederngasse, Gold Dust, Underground Voices Magazine, Heroin Love Songs, Shakespeare's Monkey Revue, and Cantaraville. Check out Ben's blog, or you can contact him by e-mail: bnardolilli@gmail.com

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