Globalization: A Poem

Poems about us

Photo by CHUTTERSNAP on Unsplash

A world of feathers,

white fluff blowing past us

on the fast freeway

to our next appointment.

Snow that doesn’t freeze

or melt, acid that etches

only glass. How can we feel

any pain after 9/11?

I watch a screen full of

colored faces, waiting for

pixels to show me the truth.

I build a fortress of books,

watch the sun rise and set,

a truck smash the trees

outside my neighbor’s house,

confuse sensation with feeling.

They are all shouting,

they are bringing in the clowns,

they figure laughter will help

or at least a good bludgeoning.

We huddle together, sardines

or deluded lemmings.

Outside, the sun burns the earth

and everywhere we are parched.