06 September 2014


Hanging out within deluded shades of grim 
indolent forebodings suggests this virus is 
a winner once again - never was a chance 
to best the beast - circumstance conspires 
without a second glance and feasts in fine 
concernment where distilled placidity once 
used to be; presentiments devise excuses 
best implied as unintended sacrifice 

There are no easy rites to see this through; 
we ride a tide a-slew beneath a fallow bed, 
dreading words unsaid of victims bled their 
energy in need to tide it to a brutal end, as 
yet unsure just who devised this cruelty or 
why its deathly dance descries disdain 

© 25 July 2014, I. D. Carswell