Marching Band

The glimmer of the stadium lights
reflect again and again from the medals of shakos
proudly bearing their loyalties
and the night falls on the shoulders of those
dark conquistadors in their black and gold
buttons polished, backs straight, ready for inspection
they stand at attention
chins up and eyes cold and dark
faces like stone work
personas engraved in marble
their hands clutching their instruments like weapons
agression in the crook of thumb and forefinger
and a certain solemnity in their expressions.
This family of midnight strangers
in practice of the night
greet their futures
beneath a blanket of stars.

-Lauren Hatch
September 19, 2007