Night of The Fourth

We cratered a comet this morning.
Now as I take out the trash

I watch the fireworks in the city park
Filtered through trees,

Far enough to be magic rather than noise,
Red white and blue regurgitated in flame.

Finally the big show is over.
Somewhere a car alarm goes off

And behind the house at the corner
Roman candles fart and fizzle light

While in the warm dark of my yard
A lightning bug dives for cover.


—John Alfred Taylor


John Alfred Taylor holds a BA from Missouri University, a MA and a Ph.D. from State University of Iowa. He taught at Washington & Jefferson College, and is now Professor Emeritus. Over the years he’s had poems in Kayak, the Southwest Review, the Kenyon Review, New Letters, West Branch, and many other magazines.