The Flag’s Harsh Clap

That brittle slap

against cold metal—

a sudden clap

snapping the morning quiet.

Dog barks slice the wind,

old threads catch light,

tattered rag flays

like a warning thrown too hard.

The flag’s sharp mouth

calls out in staccato bursts,

a dry crack that skips the rhythm

and leaves the space raw.

It’s the sound of something breaking

without ceremony, without pause.