Left to their devices their devices
falter, strand them on a street
they’ve not seen before, what they call
the criminal element all around them,
the pavement they want to drive away on
scarified, its surface shattered.     

It’s sadistic, they think then say out loud—   
not the right word but all they have,
statistics from this neighborhood
no longer in their favor.

The flavor of their fear is bitter,
chocolate with a hint of plum     
gone sour, unlike the dark bars
they ate when young, wrapped in foil  
gold as their hair, their tongues still filled
with tastebuds they never thought
would be taken from them.

*

Wyn Cooper has published five books of poetry, including, most recently, Mars Poetica. His
poems, stories, essays, and reviews have appeared in The New Yorker, The Paris Review, Poetry,
as well as in 25 anthologies of contemporary poetry. Many of his poems have been turned into
songs, including by recording artists Sheryl Crow, David Broza, and Madison Smartt Bell. He is
a former editor of Quarterly West, and the recipient of a fellowship from the Ucross Foundation.
For two years he worked at the Harriet Monroe Poetry Institute, a think tank run by the Poetry
Foundation. His first novel, Way Out West, was published in 2022. He lives in Vermont, and
works as a freelance editor. www.wyncooper.com