White Dusk

fate’s fickle finger
is cold gray steel
filled with hot white pus

angry and impotent:
it is its impotence that
makes it angry
makes it flash across the sky
makes it rain down blood
like hot lava
in the fading day

this is the sunset

tonight, the white man in the moon
will gaze down sideways
at what he’s wrought

tomorrow will be a new day
filled with color and brightness
as wisping white clouds
throw diminishing shade
on the world below

but here, at dusk
fate’s fickle finger
is cold gray steel

1 Comment

  1. I wrote this shortly after the shooting in Parkland, Florida, but for reasons I won’t go into, it’s only now seeing the light of day.

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