Deeply buried under American dust lurk godlings
spinning, spindly traps waiting
with immortal patience for us to recognize
They pluck with needle tips at the fabric,
trying to guide us away from luxurious, isolated communities
Spinning for when ascendancy over others isn’t defined by barriers built.
They see that wise men have enough to do
with things present and to come
and dig deeper searching for accountability.
They weaken as neighbors become strangers
and decontaminated ideals sway
under the weight of privacy prerogatives.
When the spectrum shatters into mere fragments.
They wane when emotional relationships based on individuality are no more,
finally groaning under the growing weight of American dust,
they stop spinning, plucking,
and take their toys home.
For they know that their true death
was not heralded with the forgetting of their names,
or of the ‘old ways’ it was when
“Danger- Keep Out”
made us feel safe.
It was when the American dust was raised into walls
leading to the obliteration
of the good things,
that many have made blood sacrifices for.
The beauty in the words gone,
people scared to live among each other,
How does your tush feel?
Very unlike me I know. I thought I’d post it anyway after much hemming and hawing.
Inspired by Trifecta’s word of the week:
2. an interjection used to express disdain or reproach
3. buttocks (slang)