echoes followed echoes
how could we call this conversation
how could no one miss the sun
in the afternoonas
life became concrete
something set in stone.
we put it on the mantel
and couldnt call home.
Dont you know
what Im talking about.
cant you feel the absence
where the heart should be.
where tumbleweeds careen
dont you know what I mean
its all Tin City now.
our words are measured
as if for suits
no one minds our bright pursuits
in the garden or at home reading.
we are zeroed out by those who
have celebrity as if we had no being
without fame. we call our names ourselves
just to remember we had them once
that once they were sewn in our sweaters
by those who called us by them.
now we are a factor of a factor of a population
designed to be dealt with....
according to the books they teach in school
and we all have our category dont we
our name tag, classification, genus species
The Poor. The Striving to Endure. the turtles
who carry no shells on their backs
and really dont they look tacky sportive spectators say.
the counted under the bridges of a country that
has lost feeling in its extremities
so that God cries out and can find nothing living.
among the trending.
mary angela douglas 11 april 2020
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