The Emperor of Terracotta Roofs Confronts the Jester

by Myronn Hardy

The Emperor of Terracotta Roofs Confronts the Jester

He is standing at the highest point of the roof.
That beautiful blue thing stares
at that high cerulean. Sirens     emergency
sirens spin red on tops of cars     vans     on
walls where glass has been broken.

He is bewildered rearing his head to scream.
The emperor screams for what has
fallen     for what has become
material     cold     stitched together
with something barbed.

Down from the top     he is careful.
His pale blue feet clutching those tiles     he
prances on the roof ’s edge balancing
his train of feathers     each possessing an eye     each
seeing what it sees despite the agony of gaze.

What has erupted continues to kill.
The jester is juggling glass spheres
on the balcony. He watches
the emperor turn     stare as if to strike.
The emperor calls.   

The blush of his tongue     the tunnel of his throat
something soft against that serrated sound.
Sirens     sirens as spheres shatter
on limestone     on moving cars that keep moving.
We only have air left in our hands.