I note a skant politic
Behind your peril eyes–
Efforting yawn-like thoughts.
Listless lips hunger for words
of heart truth–
touch simple.
You, who ballotcasts demands,
Who tally counts
on both hands;
How reckless easy
you chaos lives.
Is it your election
to run
and run again?
You office a promise
and flag your doubt
at the passing contingencies salute.
Your primary concern
Is to campaign a fugitive trespass
Until your luck runs out.
The bomb you threaten to employ
is a waterbag.
Your red telephone
is a toy.
Spring 1985