Richmond's Fair Square

The day cannot bare
The sun’s scathing blame
for nighttime’s dark stare.

Eyes held tight,
as we suffer the blight
of gun toting belligerents on Richmond’s fair square.
We watch suited minions
crowd beneath heavy domes,
with papers and pens
they stab and they moan
as the mad ogre’s spittle
cascades across
. . . all those damn blank eyes.

The sun will not relent
In blaming the night.
Despite the comfort of darkness
—the smell of it all—
it will roll over
To forge a new dawn.

Dorian LaGuardia
January 2020