I.
I keep waiting for the bombs to fall,
jarred awake nights by
questions flashing Apocalypto
on the screens
(too many screens),
only ever one cat meme away
from nuclear emoji.
II.
The catacombs they built between us,
crawling with carrion memories
(so many screams)––
of those who fled
or fought for the freedom
to breathe
who are free to fight
and flee
and breathe
no more.
III.
I force myself to sleep some nights
so I won’t drop into dreams
with eyes wide open
(how many dreams)
defiled
at every waking moment––
any umbrella won’t be umbrella enough
against the coming
storm.
-
J.T. Trigonis (he/him) is a neon troubadour of the written word. With the obligatory MFA in poetry from Brooklyn College and the ever more obligatory Pushcart prize nomination, his work has appeared in nearly 60 journals that have graced the bottom shelf of book stands (and online, too) for nearly 30 years. He’s headlined at over 30 venues, and he’s the author of seven self-published chapbooks. His most recent chapbook of selected poems, Through the Wreckage, was published in 2026 by Finishing Line Press.
Trigonis plays master of ceremonies at WAYE (We Appreciate Your Enthusiasm), the popular monthly reading series he and his partner host at their vintage shop/used bookstore in Jersey City Heights, and he’s the editorial director of By the WAYE, a magazine of poetry and visual art.
