This poem previously appeared in Blue Mesa Review back in 2012. The link’s no longer active, so I’m re-posting the poem here to make it available.
THE FUTURE IS BRILLIANT IN THE WAY IT RATIONS SUFFERING
To a sky as big as the day
we were orphaned, to the emptiness
in the capitol’s dome,
to immigrants building walls
that keep their families out.
To the denied insurance claim,
and how it guilts. To the oceans,
which seem to be forever
inviting us to spill and shatter.
To vandalized clocks and birthdays
spent counting candles.
To the grace of whip and tilt.
To the way the sky swallows us
into its quilt of planets and
spits us out each morning
with that confused look in our eyes.
To repetition, and what it’s done
to the meaning of fair & balanced.
To blue, and how it ought to be
the international color for surrender.
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