06 October 2013

Sinecure





















This seems less a sinecure than I’d have 
taken for granted, given that its taint ain’t 
as bad as it should have been maybe we 
missed the boat back a ways - played on 
scent of rotting flesh lasting much longer, 
but plain truth is, it never raised lick-leaf 
interest in a forest of doubt where every 
event stirs masses of hazy motion 

Perhaps its attitude change just out on a 
stroll gauging where the weather’s taking 
us - maybe the air’s malcontent isn’t bad 
omen stuff and we’re over-reacting when 
we should be relieved; its odour says, ah 
you’re the new residents, gidday 

So, many differences don’t make waves 
or raise boundaries where the old ways 
were sutured and tied - no-one has died 
with no remains of imagined cadavers - 
you can come out of the woodwork you 
say joking - hoping it is true 

And they do, like dreams of change you 
sincerely want to believe 
© 28 September 2013, I. D. Carswell