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Up against the wall,


Meta / Phor(e) / Play

Up against the wall,

…sits odd statuary, sullen sadness
created by hand from nothing more or less
than general failures that anyone might
turn away from on some given day:

A house taken by bankers who would not
settle for anything less from two buyers,
work taken by a promise never meant,
a culture and language unfathomably

resistant to my resistance, failed art
unsold, books stacked in dusty piles
waiting for non-existent readers.
Walk away. We all walk away, they say.

Leave it alone. It doesn’t mean anything—
home, career, art—those broken fragments
of a mirror that once reflected a token self.
Now they show a dark fear, emptiness,

this heavy sculpture unwilling or unable
to step, sing, or share in the world
of carefree surrender—a listening post
that monitors the cries of a million children,

refugees, the screams of thousands
a day sacrificed in violence to bastard wars
that…

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