“What we hope for”
Lived once near a
small town named Roadkill
where years ago the
fencing was taken down
and where all the
people looked well-fed…
What we hope for
so capable of happiness
instead the infantile rage
takes us and braces
down into the ground
the unhappiness and despair
can poetry complete the
circle we can wonder
all we want about
how our language betrays
good notes and sense
gets carried far away
ground me in love
connect me back up
connect it like electricity
all the extra apples
good men and women
some art that saves
the alien and other
the fear it won’t
get any better and
the hope it will
so tired of questions
the interrogations and sins
© 2017 Rob Schackne
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