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“And everywhere is this loss”

In the more favorible years,
but there are no favorible years,
only earth spots where the blind mouth
of our being sits with it’s elbows
composing sonnets to the loss
of the people

and everywhere is this loss
compiling- each event slowly
one goes, and then another
until soon, though physically still here
you are gone as well

an earth victum
shattered in your core
having said too little, or nothing at all
while there was poverty in your streets
while there was the disappearance of what cannot be replaced
the voices of strapped throats caught in their eternal cry
you became indecisive over what to have for dinner
while most everyone else wondered where they would get it.

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