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  • Chris Rockwell

4/20 "Some Lights Never Fade"

4/20

“Some Lights Never Fade”


Statues crumble behind posing tourists

Their smiles are the trivialities of a fallen Rome

Some soldiers are immortal, but still age

The sculptures theorize gods

My father was a god but not a statue

His fists dug holes in sideways glances

And lorded over handball courts in Brooklyn

If you so much as whispered off the cuff

His sling shot was locked and loaded


Yesterday, his growl could rumble teenagers

Today, he is softer

His Sunday morning pancakes are a cure all

Some wolves never lose their howl

But they call to the night more quietly now

The moon leans in closer to hear

Over the hum of New York City

And far away

Even the Altare della Patria,

A monument to the roads tying Italy into a knot,

Finds birds perched along

The shoulders of the unknown soldier

Their feathers, not the least bit ruffled

Even the marble has gone soft

And when the last of them crumble When my father’s bones are dust

The form is lost, but the soul floats on

It exists beyond knowledge and incantation

The stone pillars will become the ground

Which the next city is built upon

Some howls echo forever

Some lights never fade




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