Special thanks to my wondrous friends, Karla Dorman and Karen Vidra, Bright and Shining Texas Stars. --- N: this piece is still in draft. . .after draft! Hope it makes some sense to some. . .

          January Lurches Toward Spring -- Trial 2

High, but not too high to reach, contusions purple
shadows that try to pry apart the bars of grey
gnawn by moonlight-fashioned shanks
and the  clouded glares of inmates
slated from birth to rot in cells and  thought crooked
as the calcium-poor molars and dogteeth that trickle
their way, thanks to the thundering, plundering
wardens of corruption and pettifogging politicoes
fanned by tycoon-bought typhoons.  Yet this is their sky,  Yes, this  is our sky,  One that makes promises it may keep
with a little help diverting the drones that churn
the pressing ups and downs that scurl our flanks.
Opposite, blood oranges unexpected breaks in fronts
that have threatened eons.  One cannot but be struck
by the beauty.  While it robs breath, it reboots
mucked boots and spates of lightning shock with
the knowledge that every moment we allow unjust Law to hail, that every time we swallow wind and rain whipped to
fury by storm-happy rulers with Greed on their crests,
that every moment we stare, mute
and quivering at their trumpeting, elephantine ranks,  ignoring the shades and shifts –– holes in its puffery! -- is worse than a waste.  
The greyer it gets, and the closer, the harder
we must work to add color and light.  Sweep
away wars’ poisoned rubble, and give succor.   See
how hard the sun is working?  We must do double.  
A streak of pink tinged gold has edged north.  
Carry the flag of peace through the breach,
brave souls.  Through the breach, brave souls,
through the breach!   

 

 

(c) Phyllis Jean Green,  January, 2006