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bombs blast, and runners fall, huddle
under emergency blankets, reflecting
the world's flags, floating in this sky
that unites us, runners and spectators,
here in America. this sky that illuminates
with IEDs and drone strikes in distant cities
and remote villages, senseless bloodshed
and wailing grief, loss, pain, anger—
for our violent world
for our inability to love
for our endless cycles of harm.
i hurl flower bombs, glitter bombs, never-ending
love bombs to Boston, Aleppo, Oklahoma City,
Baghdad, Kandahar, and the interior
of every human heart.
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