Through the turgid day
No sound but muffled mouths
And muted moans

No clear reasons
And no straight answers
And not one handing hand

Without a joy buzzer in the palm

Then on into night
Air as thick as a wall of plaster
Through which we push

To get back to the precarious
Safety of home and this in some alleged
New Age in the galaxy that resembles

The old one grinning in its calm





Content (c) 2008-2013 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.