Skant Politic

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

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