Poem: Out of Place

 

Out of Place

 

questions lurch,

born in cocktails

with lewd names.

 

those of us with minds

as guarded as soda water

do not know the answers.

 

we appraise wastelands

of sassy youth,

wanting to be part of the grunt,

 

but unable to sway

like these sexy philosophers,

who broach casual taboos

 

and do not sing of fear.

 

we stare

as if stunned by godlings

agile and immune.  how easily

 

they stalk pleasure for hours,

devouring each other,

chasing necks.

 

when they die

they moan up again, half destroyed,

and the rest lovely, toned,

 

supple with war.

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This poem was originally published in Barnwood Magazine in 2012.   I am going to start re-publishing poems published in the past on this blog.  Why?  A big part of it is the potential end of the US as I knew it, and my concern that I will be incarcerated.  I am, too, in my 60s, and could die of natural causes, exacerbated by grief and anxiety at the loss of the country I knew all my life.

Expect more poems like this, and so a bit of a different poetic voice--who I was ten or more years ago.