Tuesday, June 29, 2021

The Difficult Ones

The wind came in today 
And some went crazy
To be sane: dancing 
With the African crane
As a towel torreador,
Moving the refrigerator 
Back and forth because
There's no one way to be,
Walking away from the people
Who would have them
To knock on stranger's doors
Screaming to be let in,
Offering malevolent glares 
From plastic chairs,
Medicated stares as grievances
Never expressed or guessed before
Were dealt like continuous cards.

It is time for mothers to cry
And take calls upstairs.
The blue roof lights flare on and off
As if to fill the domes with messages 
For the nearest stars:
They are recovering nicely,
In the chaos they've created,
Some permanent truth,
Even if it is only a lie.