Annie Stenzel

Pierced by vicarious sorrow

The grief was not mine but protruded nonetheless
into the atmosphere around me. Jagged words
made short work of the ignorance of an empty
landscape. Since when was a whisper

ever so bitter, or so loud? A canyon dominated
by the echo of pounding water is silent
by comparison. No one is screaming nearby
and yet the face of the world wears the rictus
 
that remains after infinite anguish. Once
the portcullis is lowered, separating innocent
days from the guilty present, not even
a shred of happiness can be induced
 
to slip through the bars. Escape is unthinkable.
Here comes grief, unmuffled, stamping its leaden feet.
 

Annie Stenzel (she/her) is a lesbian whose poems have appeared in Atlanta Review, Chestnut Review, FERAL, Kestrel, Lily Poetry Review, Night Heron Barks, On the Seawall, rust + moth, Saranac review, SWWIM, UCity Review, and elsewhere. She lives on unceded Ohlone land within walking distance of the San Francisco Bay.