July Third, Two Thousand Eighteen

Spirited through time, riven
we make our meek adjustments,
deferring to the feeding frenzy
when communal touch and slow dinners
are what we really crave.
Clacking skeletons of capitalist spectacle
drown out our warm mammalian needs,
dance on our graves
blot out the sun.

Image by Michele Montserrat

3 thoughts on “July Third, Two Thousand Eighteen

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