This Ain’t No Movie

Hard lights crack
the night’s darkness.
Doors slam tight
against silence.
On an empty road,
shreds of screaming
linger in the static charged air.
Down a hallway,
despair echoes.
Where once were dreams,
ashes remain.
A broken camera
rests on shattered glass.
A projector flickers
on an empty screen.
An audience shuffles
|to exits that were locked
long ago.

Dan Fitzgerald lives quietly in Pontiac, Illinois, tending to home and garden. His poems have been published in The Writer’s Journal, PKA Advocate, Nomad’s Choir and many others. His work is also included in several anthologies.