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July 5, a poem by Roger Pfingston


… and still they punctuate
the night with their leftovers,
the distant pops, the star-
shattering booms, spiders
and jellyfish hanging,
dissolving over lakes,
oceans, countryside,
clusters of aerial chatter,
the flight of animals, wild,
domestic, yelps and whines,
hugging the ground, digging,
diving to escape the god-
awful whatever it is,
though see
   how they glow,
      the children’s eyes,
         their upturned faces…
and now the lull, the is-it-over-look-around…
one bright, tiny fuse…someone’s Lady Finger….

Roger Pfingston is the recipient of a poetry fellowship from the National Endowment for the Arts and two PEN Syndicated Fiction Awards. His most recent chapbook, What’s Given, is available from Kattywompus Press. New poems are appearing this year in I-70 Review, U.S. 1 Worksheets, Innisfree Poetry Journal, Dash, Passager and Front Range Review.