Poem: Mimes

 

Mimes

 

trees mime

the pain of what was lost.

 

they could have been left alone

to live and combine.

 

birds could have

supplied a robust pulse.

 

and the wind might have strummed,

lush of soft balalaika.

 

not splintered guitars.

not cracked cellos.

 

but screechy saws keep moving the trees

to build pricey cubes.

 

humans and humans and humans 

grow to consume thrice as much.

 

can they feel the distant hum?

trembles from topples of distant tremors

 

in their bones?

 

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My brother liked the book, Invisible Man, but this poem, in his honor, wasn't quite on topic.  Similar, though, in the invisibility.