The day the streets died

By Fabrice Poussin

They try to subsist in the high rise

overlooking the dark arteries

where once flowed extended lives.

Exile on a diet of hundred-year-old leftovers

they sit by the somber hearth of many winters

snuggling about a minute spark of fading hopes.

The heavens too have fallen silent

as the child ponders through the oversized screen

would be television to a strange reality show.

Her attempted smile cannot hide the grey of her skin

she stands on the edge of a concrete abyss

her timid fingerprints hovering for a moment onto the glass.

Nearby by uncertain shadows seem to lurk

in what was once a semblance of a life.

idle for so long they do not remember the days.

Solitary survivors outside the only permitted realm

they dare not venture below these heights

where everything is a little too pure, a little too sterile.

The eerie penthouse may become their tomb

a mausoleum to never be discovered

but they know it will be their restful peace.

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Fabrice Poussin teaches French and English at Shorter University. Author of novels and poetry, his work has appeared in Kestrel, Symposium, The Chimes, and many other magazines. His photography has been published in The Front Porch Review, the San Pedro River Review as well as other publications. Most recently, my collection “In Absentia,” was published in August 2021 with Silver Bow Publishing.