Fireworks on the Fourth
by Tyler Engel
“And those who are wise shall shine like the brightness of the firmament; and those who turn many to righteousness, like the stars for ever and ever.”
~Daniel 12:3
Yes. That’s it.
I wait for fireworks and smell the stars
smoking Americans I’ve never seen who pack
into parking lots each summer for a ritual
of blasting the sky open in hopes of revealing something
hidden there. I know in the dark the grass
browns and the concrete quakes like rattling bones. Before long,
there are fireworks rising like flowerbud fists from the slabs
against the will of so many but like fighters swinging they carry visions
of a land we love. I am willing to wait for it every time.
Like Icarus and all of us, they don’t last long up there and fade
into the black despite shining brighter than stars. Still,
I wonder, “what are they?” Not fireworks.
They smell burnt like flowers smell. They sting like waiting stings.
They fade like cracked pillars fade. They return like reality returns.
The Americans,
they scream. I hear all their screams. I do not comprehend
but I do laugh instead. The 4th of July is a ridiculous reminder
about time. It will move through you, at a pace you wish
you could choose. You need not dread it, but only count on its arrival
on the clouds, revealing your fears.