ever a skip roping feign,
nor does it invite curious spectators
to chant those jumping songs
we memorized as children. No,
my heart seeks peace in a world gone
awry; nineteen school children
and two teachers killed in Texas,
war in Ukraine, a madman’s
dream. What to do with loss?
Especially loss of belief.
There once were lilacs growing
outside my window here in
California. This year they were
rusty bags, little starvelings.
Do they know the future
strangles the unsuspecting?