Awake
Awake and listen to the voices.
Cancer’s disfigured hand
is pulling the morning light
across the city’s ruined land.
There’ll be thunder in the warehouse
and prophecy over coffee,
and the markets trading poison
and greed will falter and then rally.
Thoughts will fly through the air and be caught
in an entangled net of lines,
and the gods will reveal themselves
in ironic slogans on billboard signs.
And the theater of the stars will
raise and ruin another acting king,
and Demeter (an old woman selling
flowers in the market) will sing:
“Violets are for the good wife,
tulips for the girl who misbehaves,
and wildflowers are for mourning,
for my poor daughter’s grave.”
Awake and listen to the voices.
Cancer’s disfigured hand
is pulling the morning light
across the city’s ruined land.
****
