a poem progresses through a series of

fault lines

that buckle the ground we walk upon

one day, blood in a strained stool; another,

yet another funeral

the starved child stares beyond the camera

to the mechanics of paradise its blinding flash

then darkness

what light gives at this price:

the blurred mirror, the face

now 

turned resolutely 

to the far horizon 

and yet each perjured 

silence

calls us back to this soiled world. someone else’s pain

sold as grace:

it will not do. we go on.

all that is known goes nowhere

we return with each

li(n)e

to these brokered voices and everything

broken

through fault lines water rises

glittering

waves beach against rocky shores

the sea open 

even in winter