Taking a Crack at It

We have discovered dark paint for the sky.

Rats hide in sewers, refusing what we

leave them. In Washington, a man breaks up

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday. He is smaller

then necessary. People keep writing about it,

pouring their words into the streets. It rises

above our ankles. On the corner, a man remembers

flowers, and hurries home to tell others who won't

be his friends for long. Make the walls ready.

Board over the windows. Even if open

the sun would reject them. If I walk all day

looking for clean water, I will find people

throwing themselves into it. Stones are safer.

They sink to the bottom. We have shut ourselves

into our eyes and shut our eyes after us.

Nobody's watching. We have grown so ignorant

that we can't build a gibbet. Hangman's rope

comes cheap. Eyes locked, we rock ourselves

in a cat's cradle of compromise and silence.