Alphabet Poem #13

The M poem.

My infatuation with my own views comes up against the real world

Every whisper lost to the rumble of the air conditioning
fails to live up to the promise of its words

The season isn’t exactly amenable to clarity—
not beyond seeing one’s breath in the cold air of November

This wound is not a rip in fabric
you can safety-pin together
and pretend nothing happened

There’s no way to know how bad it is
most of us haven’t seen this kind of thing before

Oh, it’s one thing to see it portrayed on the screen
where it all goes back to normal when the director yells ‘cut!’

It’s another to live with the reality
and the fear that comes with unanswered questions

(12 November 2016—posted November 13th)

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