In Fifteen Minutes

Hal Steinman

Screams muted by dry throats
Tone is flat and dull
Dust and white hot sun
Black sky dotted white
Khaki rimmed horizon
Smells of burnt flint
Noises overlap and blend
Rapid infusion of thoughts
Pounding rhythms creamed
Experienced in moments past caring
Gleaming reflections in red
Dullness of the earth glow
Black smoke with bright centers
Singing shockwaves above middle C
Odors musty and sharp
Frothing static on needles
Uniform in individual flair
Scars yet to form, lay open
Sanitary when inflicted
Mingled: earth and body
Separate: soul and sky
A day in the life
Seconds that make up eternity
Lost or saved for now
Claims on the moment
Dry and ground to powder
Illegible cryptic script
Spoken in dull tones
Screamed in dry throats
Over the rumble of machines
“Allah come and take him
Allah come
Maybe”