the fractiled populations glow only for an instant
on the holy grid and
are you disappearing still?
are you factored into the sun
and subject to random evaluations.
on the spur of the whimsical?
are you fired at will,
called special at the end of the day
lumped in with the myriad suffering others
while your devastated countries bleed
and all your imaginary companions
under the nose of the monitors monitoring
do you know what to feel
what to wear on these occasions?
fact finding committees would
haul you away as though you were trash
right in front of the essential employees
while the poets in the newsrooms blanch
given more than .50
of a tinker’s damning chance.
Shine! momentary diamond in the mind of God
eternal, cherished
Individual-
even this far from home
mary angela douglas 15 august 2013
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