the shape of what is not there
the shape of what is not there
I’m not sure why this seems to be
the week for a mutual meltdown
but there is a tsunami of tension
even the schnauzers are surly
they know the whole thing has gone
to the dogs as we say and they
resent being made the metaphor
why couldn’t we have gone to the cats
the truth is we can’t go anywhere
other than away from each other
past empty buildings and cancelled
gatherings and get-togethers
masked and melancholy we skirt
each other for fear of contact
all that makes us human and alive
has been distanced absented
our inarticulate anger fills the shape
of all we have lost no are losing
this is all in the present tense
we don’t know what is next
our leaders speak in abstractions
opening economy best in the world
our pains are particular and personal
capitalism offers little comfort
life as we knew it is missing
so is touch and hope and ritual
tradition community and ceremony
the virtual proves itself vacuous
and we are starting to figure out
that we are in the middle of it all
not the end not whatever’s next
all is not lost there is more to come
Peace,
Milton
