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