The radio says sequestration before sunrise
so that the soft vowels and hard que alliteration
put in my mind equestrian, though
another part knows it for an accretion of cuts.
People are losing their jobs. In an interesting twist
a public defender lays himself off rather than
a less senior beneath him. That from his mouth
Ii hear the poor can't get a fair shake is not thus ironic.
If not forever, hasn’t this been true for an awfully long time?
Three cheers for those who still give a damn,
by which I mean actually do something about it.
Like the torturer’s horse, I just want
relief for the itch on my ass.
I obey the bit and bridle.
The alternative is just too damn hard.
listening to the news on a pleasant
spring morning in the mountains,
anticipating something going wrong
and as if to confirm that, a report claims
airlines, to increase revenues,
refuse to take off from
or land in places unprofitable.
Imagine flight as a pleasure,
as Icarus’ father might have before the boy
passed in front of the sun.
Imagine, easel under his arm,
Bruegel looking up at the sun
and then, lowering his gaze to the plowman,
and with something like pleasure, recalling
an uncle, reading stories to lull him asleep
and the terror of the dreams that followed.