A Lament For When It Comes From Behind
That someone’s life is saved by
poetry or art, or construction
with the cranes and girders
all that rests in the sunlight
till the edifice is completed
except that the building’s flawed
and it rains like seven heavens
are bewildered by life’s lizards
pipes leaking important knowledge
and thanks, but I wasn’t saved at all.
© 2015 Rob Schackne
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