detonate by William Aarnes

detonate

Detonate is as good

a word as any, good,

say, as kiss, usually less personal

but delivering as much feeling—             

like the time the trustees

decided to bring down

the old dorm on the hilltop

so the business school

could go up in its place.

They announced the date

and a couple thousand gathered,

those who had lived

on its halls, eaten

in its cafeteria, felt

affection for its six stories

there at the top of the hill,

a landmark that stood out

and stood for the town.

The police were there,

someone having calculated

how close people dare stand.

And, as planned, at noon

a siren, then a loud shock

shook through the crowd

and, hesitant as a goodbye kiss, 

the dorm crumpled into a heap

and a cloud of dust

hovering over the site.

A few cheered, but most

just stood for awhile

before wandering away

with an emptiness

they could do without.