ATM explosions they’re calling them By Parker Sera

ATM explosions they’re calling them

The summer the national guard played the sound of bomb blasts
Exactly 18 minutes apart
For hours once it got dark

And every so often we would ask if maybe they were only fireworks

The summer the people rose
Like shimmering heat from the asphalt

That summer I stared into the jungle of my backyard
Drinking with my skin and hair and gazing

at the patch of light;
The bright, polluted sky glancing through the trees

My body shook
An animal shakes to release tension and stress

I heaved
The whole house heard it

I looked around for some place that wasn’t on fire

In the damp yard millions of little bugs

My body shook
The whole house felt it

By Parker Sera


Parker Sera is a queer, midwestern horse girl, poet, actor, and theatre-maker from Minneapolis, MN. Her work has appeared in Knack Magazine and the 11/9 Anthology. She lives in Philadelphia, where she’s working on her MFA in Acting at Temple University.

Leave a Reply