Through Midnight Gates


United States
40° 44' 31.974" N, 96° 38' 51.9972" W

Through midnight gates at Nivky Station

run teenage revolutionaries, raising Kyiv to the ground

with snare drum steps, violin tremolos shout,

They cannot stop us!


Sliding, gliding on aluminum bannisters,

underground escalators to the evicted homes

of megaton bottle-rockets,

snake-like tombs where missiles once lay

are filled by flying yellow lines,

Stalin’s blue trains.


All aboard! Chuting the subterranean,

keeping company with accordions,

moving chess boards,

and the Gypsy in his daisy dress

nicking soda bottles for a trash bag collection.


Screeching halt, swinging open

a village of riverboats

illuminated by bass pumping celebration.

Our young soldiers race

‘cross broad shouldered seas,

Faces ebbing, flowing tides,

Humanity’s current forming circular cells

surrounding Iranian break dancers.

Coffee-grinder kicks, sling-shooting liberation,

splattering graffiti on concrete walls,

shaping three white owls,

lidless, they stare, on all us battle-criers.


Fear evaporates the sidewalk cracks,

freeing our hands to break

‘DO NOT CROSS’ tape,

to sound the victory,

unleashing passion dormant.


Hold her like forbidden treasure,

as tho’ skies will rain red hail,

hold her tighter still.

Paper hearts fly, burn this night

to make a morning of ashes.

Look down at us, lit by flicker’d flame

among monuments forgotten, golem’s frozen.

For daring future is not a statue,

it is an infant mosaic;

Tiles, rise to the call.


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741