That making qualitative judgement when your
ears are waking to a giddy ring of cheers may
not be easy – but few who know they’re singular
& chosen ever hear. Dauntless venture reasons
as a sinecure, knows no cautious words to stave
a rainy day. I hear their jeers as praise, am fey &
fearing malice pure as leaks ‘twixt sharpened
teeth & tight-lipped grins of cheery faux amaze.
But these are early days; the blooded knives
are buried in the backs of failed and wooden
idols of an anxious past – they try to smile, to
bare their toothless gums. They’re in denial,
too long they had it just their way, too long
they lied about the future we’re denied...
© 28 November 2007, I. D. Carswell