Across the sky

Blue    blue

As my grandfather’s

Eyes

Clouds    white as angel wings

Might be

Undefined edges

Soft as baby hair

Float slowly in a promenade

Above my head

Eyes pull the scene

Into a place of

Remembering

I will draw it out

Create protection

Against the harshness

Of these times

Words    threats     accusations

Scatter like scraps of waste

Paper

That litter     soil     what is

Left

Of our political innocence

And I tell you this

There is a cancer

In the gut of the

Body Politic

It must be removed

Cut away

Before it will metastasize

Beyond    redemption

*photo credit