All the Rage

Lately we’re doing as many

as six impossible things a day

: decent rooms for the unhoused

: unemployment benefits for gig workers

: health care for the uninsured

: waiving bail, depopulating prisons

: eviction and foreclosure moratoriums

: defunding the police

…

I’ll tell you how imperfect it all is

in another poem, because now

is not Wonderland, or Neverland

, or Heaven, or Nirvana

…

or maybe now is, maybe we

always were, and we need to

open our eyes, work, believe

: imagine what we can do

tomorrow

This poem knows your silence will not protect you

It sees you

Not knowing what to next

This is not the poem we wanted

The blank page in front of us is the ear of our grandchildren

Waiting

This was always going to be

About work

This poem

Cannot finish

Itself

Some of us

did not

die

.

What we live

we would not wish

on anyone

.