Instead never happened . . . it was cancelled
along with ghosts
of those awaiting word in six-foot bursts . . .
Shout-outs are shouted-down
the universe upended
even metaphors . . . bobbing along
with the flotsam
as confused as the rest of us . . .
struggle for how-tos . . .
And you? . . . You insist on photo-montages
scrambling for the high ground
as floods wash away
hopes and dreams and memories . . .
Why concern yourself now
over oxygen levels
while players instagram the remains of the day? . . .
 |
| Alina Lebedeva |