Not Part Of It

Not part of it – but neither free
nor far away; scales of lament
wont weigh random favours or
play refined games. The stage is
short on visceral analogies one
defends – it is a parachuteless
whim thrown into the wind with
chance vagaries quickened

Many landings later one could
say glibly – if you walked away
it was safe – modish speech so
removed from just surviving the
decision’s minutiae about who
really pilots the plane well, and

Not where casualties ultimately
lie; a miniature play endorsing
power while flies buzz a source
of rich rectitude abandoned,
rotting graft panned neatly by
gold-diggers, inevitably a way

Of soured relations, veracity of
which in embattlement’s wake
says who gets the spoils; and a
gap there is writ clear in a line
of covetous agents who weep
facetiously interpolating, slickly
bartering an armoire of hollow
rituals for hard currency fees
© 12 Oct 2012, I. D. Carswell