We Do The Math

 

The arithmetic of atrocities,

who does that math,

counting lives like

piles of cordwood destined

for the funeral fire.

 

Are atrocities algebraic,

x plus y plus Time equals

a mathematical formula

for the horror and traumas

we have inflicted.

 

Do we count with our fingers,

with our toes,

with an abacus,

slide ruler,

calculator or computer?

 

Math is the constant,

counting the rolling heads,

the bodies buried under

heaps of other dead bodies,

neatly accounted for.

 

For History needs its numbers,

to show who won,

who lost,

the cost,

the wages of sin.

 

The ridged, cold

numbers; orderly and

succinct, filed and

stamped, in long

symmetrical rows of carnage.

 

We can put a price on it,

a number can be affixed,

we know how to do it,

we’re practiced

and very good at math.

 

We do the Math.

 

Subtle Cruelties

 

The random strange cruelty

of the world is truly something

to behold. The shadow of malignant

chance creeping effortlessly

amidst our daily lives.

 

Life is, streaky.

Like a baseball team.

You’re having a good season

and then, “Wham!”

Slump city.

 

Where does this dark

random malignancy come from?

In what foul wretches of the

underworld is it made?

A stinking, vile cauldron of witches’ brew?

 

I’m very much trying to value

my good streak, and recognize it

while it lasts. I want to hold onto

it for as long as possible and keep the

creeping darkness at bay.

 

Yet, the fringes of luck I can see, are being

tainted by the wispy tendrils of

chance and general rotten

happenstance.  

Tearing and gnawing at the edges.

 

It starts with something simple,

a stubbed toe in the morning,

ending in fires and shouting,

ambulances racing over city

streets as the rancor and havoc erupt.

 

I’m still trying to keep my chin up

though. Still trying to keep that hope

alive that my happy plans will not be

destroyed by the dark machinations of a

stubbed toe or a missing turn signal cover.

 

Which I discovered this morning on

my car before I went to work.

Because the little cruelties of the world

are relentless in their desires to keep us

down.