State of Emergency

we’ve been told that the fold on this fabric is
the reason for the world’s skirmishes
the blemish is
the reason sleep and not the bug replenishes.
the doors are closed.
ventilation is suffocation to a world exposed
resources sold to its bidder when the script is scrolled
the crime unfolds
but nothing was seen when police patrolled
the circle is gold
love and God are companions cold
mortality like our mothers are old
fear is watered until its plants decompose
love for knowledge gives us the scripts we compose
it’s deeper in poetry and surface as prose
we’d wait. we’d listen in silent repose

leonell