Poetry by Damian Rucci

              Bart Everson CC



​EVERYONE IS WEARING MASKS AND IT'S NOT EVEN HALLOWEEN

it’s later than that now, the leaves
have fallen across idle and empty streets
smiles are now forbidden fruits
eyes, the last bastion of contact
I never knew how much
I used to read lips

my brother has been reading lips
since 1996, the world a muffled
boombox on the edge of the cosmos
a floating mural of yearning
I know beauty still lingers
on the edge of quiet contemplations

all the coffee shops are closed
all the parties are over
the world is hushed like a first snow
my footsteps echo alone on Myrtle avenue
there is nothing normal about this newness
but there is no resolve but to submit

​

Damian Rucci is the unofficial poet laureate of every 711 in New Jersey. Founding member of the Nu Profits of Poetic Dischord and author of five chapbooks of poetry. His work has recently appeared on gas station bathroom stalls. 

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