Unconcluded phone calls still hum from the copper wiring–
The obsolescence of the musket never muffled the firing.
The voices in your head and my demons never ceased conspiring.
Unsettled arguments still wail in the melody of police sirens–
The decree of Darius never closed up the jaws of the lions.
Mutual submission could never suppress our wild, latent tyrants.
We thought we understood what the moment meant,
Then the past reintroduced herself as the present.
YOU ARE READING
Handfuls of Dust
Poetry"Handfuls of Dust" is a deep, diverse collection of poems I have written over the past two years.
