Poetry About Mobs

In a crowd tightening around a rumor, mobs finds a visible shape. Phones raised above angry heads carries what ordinary speech leaves unfinished. Between one window breaking the shared restraint and a frightened person pressed to the wall, the heart learns to listen. A crowd becomes dangerous when responsibility dissolves into numbers, though the day rarely says so aloud. By night, sirens entering after judgment has vanished becomes a promise rather than an ending.

Phones raised above angry heads enters the poem first. Mobs follows, neither symbol nor explanation, but weather. A frightened person pressed to the wall keeps the difficult measure. We stand near a crowd tightening around a rumor and let certainty loosen. A crowd becomes dangerous when responsibility dissolves into numbers. Sirens entering after judgment has vanished remains after the room grows quiet.

Someone remembers one window breaking the shared restraint. Someone else names a crowd tightening around a rumor and means an entire life. Mobs moves between them with patient hands. Phones raised above angry heads refuses to become only background. A crowd becomes dangerous when responsibility dissolves into numbers. At last, sirens entering after judgment has vanished gives the silence somewhere to rest.