A News Report

Jared Cubilla

Published Fall 2020

TODAY — There was a pig that flew

Through a department store window

Shattering into a hundred porcelain pieces

Scattering change across the floor and

Broken glass. The video has been seen

A thousand times or more and a black-and-white

Picture of the suspect has been circulating

Around — it’s a little boy, the son of some

Dead carpenter, who had been saving up for

A new handsaw. He got mad at a news report

And now police say he is out there, on the run

And dangerous. The boy can be identified

By a distinctive birthmark on his left cheek

In the shape of a faded heart.


YESTERDAY — “There are fires everywhere,” reported

The infinite bystander. “When will they all just cool down?”

Meanwhile, there are tiny neighbourhoods that shiver

In a frigid air dense with lonesome ghosts —

Their sky is thick with the smoke of burnt out cigarettes

And snuffed birthday candles lying on day-old

Carrot cake, and the scene smells of those last bits

Of leftover bacon in the pan that sizzled away like

The sunny Sunday morning. And in the pews was

A melancholy newcomer with a fistful of cents

Who volunteered with troubled young men in the church

And tried to build a life out of the pieces in the street

And died. The police involved in the case cannot find

The weapon, the motive, the suspect — but we are an endless witness.


TOMORROW — There are thunderstorms ahead.

Strikes of great blue lightning will try to split apart

The seven-hundredth scheduled protest of the streets.

And when the sweat meets the coming storm

This will become a city of syrup and spiky

Silver shards — an impossible scene to pass by.

But sometimes God speaks in the rain, as quietly

As a drop in the ocean, as a match in the inferno,

As a baby’s first step. What else can we do but listen

And look upon our daily flying swine? They remind us that pigs

And rain and died are four-letter words too. They remind us that

There is possibility and prospect in the broken pane. They remind us

That the painful glassy glare will never stop a walk across an overflowing square.

And will you meet us there?

Jared Cubilla is in his 2A term of English Rhetoric, Media, and Professional Communication.