All wreck and ruin still such heavenly days & Abominations precluding whimsy
by Morgan Harlow
[ poetry - march 10 ]
All wreck and ruin still such heavenly days
When threat of mushroom bloom is through
they let the children out to play. Inside they stay
to watch TV on train wrecks of the century.
His hand fast held upon her knee, she thought it
close to ecstasy. Her hand unbuttons his and hers,
then dons the coverlet so none will see.
Abominations precluding whimsy
To learn late century it has all
been a lie: gainful employment
the eight-hour day the banking
system the pay as you go life
strife. I'm certain, though,
the moon will again preside
over the shadowed mountainside,
cool sunset in the west lending
richness to rusted infrastructures.
Oh, inglorious elegy for a time
when barefoot soldiers knelt to kiss
the prince's hands. We know it
from a history play, our lives an addendum
to that faded age none can now remember,
our own world unremarkable to us
even as we see it changed beyond belief.
