Having trouble with this. . .as if it weren't obvious. Hope those of you who read the previous version feel that the changes are salutory. Haven't made it worse--""

     January Staggers Toward Spring -- Rework of 'Lurch'

High, but not too high for us, contusions purple
shadows that try to pry apart the bars of grey
gnawn by moonlight-fashioned shanks
and the  clouded glares of impoverished inmates
slated from birth to rot in cells, misaligned and grinding
the bleeding, underfed  molars and dogteeth that trickle
their way, no thanks to the thundering, plundering
wardens of corruption and pettifogging politicoes
fanned by tycoons who blow.  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
up and down our flanks.  Opposite, blood
oranges unexpected breaks in fronts
that have threatened for eons.  One cannot but be struck
by the beauty.  While it robs breath, it reboots
spates of lightning that shock into us the knowledge
that every moment we allow unjust Law to hail,
that every time we swallow wind and rain whipped furious
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