Bryan D. Price

The triumph of the dead

at some point today someone will contact you to say
this is what happened this is what happened during the
black death this is what happened during Vesuvius this
is what it feels like to be wounded in the house of our
friends they put the five nonbelievers in a truck and whisked
them to a new hemisphere held their faces under the water
until Cerberus could be seen clearly through the mirror of
infinite wandering mark my words this will happen as clear
as a bell if you listen for the right kind of sound or signal
a delicate knocking on a pane of pink glass (tnk tnk tnk) as
light as paper they will take you by the hand or arm and
explain that the worst of it has not passed that the wave
has not crashed but is gathering its power disgraceful power
like static electricity the atmosphere’s wavy or shimmering
through the glass it is like earthquake weather unspeakably
hot obscene winds blowing overcome with wistfulness like
the moment before the air goes still gripping and turning
your arm questioning with eyes words leeched from mouths
from tongues communicating only with fire gesturing now
with the eyes of Paul who can see (has seen) the dragon by
the side of the road—at some point today mark my words

Bryan D. Price's poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Posit, the UCity Review, the Inflectionist Review, and others. He lives in San Diego, California with his wife, a dog, and a cat named for Pina Bausch.