#19

The Flagpole’s Dream

written by Mathias Svalina

As if I were a big straw, I sip up dirt from the city into which I have been stuck. I take a deep sip of the sweet, sweet dirt. I can taste the history of the city in the dirt. I taste the screams of joy & I taste the screams of pain. I taste the courage & the cowardice. I taste the tears & I taste the ink. I drink so deeply of the city’s dirt that the flag that hangs from me transforms itself into dirt. The wind blows & the dirt flag flaps. The wind dislodges the dirt from the flag, dirt falling to the ground, returning to the Earth.