After that, safety fell off,
there was no before.
It was just now.
And the now filled all the spaces.
What we were doing gained importance
as a memory of a moment.
The change shivered through us,
and all that was.
but not far away, an impossibility
Sounds blackened clocks,
war closed the minutes, the hours.
Fear found us
watching the radio.
Judy DeCroce, a former teacher, is a poet/flash fiction writer who has been a frequent contributor to Palettes and Quills. Also published in An Upstate of Mind, Amethyst Review, Front Porch Review as well as Writers & Books. She is a professional storyteller and teacher of that genre. Judy lives and works in upstate New York with her husband, writer Antoni Ooto.