Another pile
of words
to fall on
deaf ears.
Like
cordwood next
to a
funeral
pyre.
Picket signs
stacked
near the
trash
after the
protest.
The avalanche
already
down the
mountain side.
The seas receding
after the
Tsunami.
After the
fact,
we react,
without
proact.
Necks are
sore
from all the
shaking and
head down sobbing.
One more
number
posted on
the
big tally
board.
While
repetition
repeats redundantly
because we
said it before.
Another pile
of words,
spilled on
the floor
that we’ll
ignore.
No.
No more.
Again.
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