Seeking sensory vindication
for pumping blood, aroused anticipation.
We have descended.
An anarchy of broken promises,
compacts, mirrors, pastel pieces
dropped heavily to shatter.
We embarrass captive ancestry,
whining, whimpering, writhing
as if such elocution equals drama.
We sadly dust away worn skin
without ingenuity to renew.
Settling, dumping our shameful load, resigning
into scrapes upon a screen.
Box of tricks emptied open, left to entropy.
But before we shuffle off to
endless evaluation, complaint, cold coffee …
Daring, darling Hope takes stage,
curtsies to the high box crowd,
sings so miraculously strong and loud.
For that eternal moment we are stunned
to applause.
Make Peace The Issue

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