Blue Tarps

 

The present unpleasantness, we’ve agreed,

is due to knuckleheads and variants,

widespread confusion over want and need.

The variants might yield to science — answers

might be had. But knuckleheads? What can

you do? Someone tell us — what can you do?

We’re all refugees, all of us. No-man’s-land

is all we know. Blue tarps. Latrines. And beauty

is so fleeting when we’re so distracted

by the fierce onrush of everything.

It’s time to tell the commandant — we’ve packed

our bags, served our time, paid our dues. Let’s sing

a new freedom, let’s leave the camp, make some

noise, make like it was before. Let’s go home.

 

 

© Michael Fleming

Brattleboro, Vermont

April 2021

 

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