Poem: Unslept

 

Unslept

 

unable to focus

on the who-what-why-wheres

which ride in miniature railroad cars

clownlike in a busy forebrains;

unable to write

except like a worm wet in beach sand,

erased and rolled, wriggling

in the chew of the surf,

i decided i was nothing.

nothing 

but iterative muscle clung to frail pillars,

soon to collapse into a grave hole.

 

why had i imagined such wings?

or any sort of limbs

other than those which flail and hit

and cry and kill and break?

why had i truly, foolishly,

imagined such a creature,

the idiocy that is human,

shedding pain to become a flower.

petals as quills as light as letters

in a poem of caring touch?

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8/26 ... eds

5/25 ... fixed typo

It's only about a third of a population of a country that embraces a fascist leader.  The Nazi Party was around 32% at its height.  But that's all it takes to menace everyone enough so they all cow and bow down--or suffer the very real consequences.