By. Douglas Silver
I recall the day I began believing in assurances pawned off on others.
Clerics cowered as buildings bowed,
While dealers drowned in saline.
Babies cried mothers' milk while
Mothers' cried babies’ dreams.
Following suit,
The sun raised a blade to betray the king of night.
But as rock and sea met to love,
A child held my hand and told me I'd be alright.
Douglas Silver graduated from Columbia University with a degree in Writing/Literature in 2006. His prose and poetry have been published in Dark Phrases, The Columbia Observer, Ya Sou! Online and is forthcoming in The Vagrant Literary Quarterly, Avanim Literary Journal and Damn Good Writing. Goblin Press will publish his chapbook in March. He lives in Manhattan.
