Rage
1 min readJul 19, 2020
Cool days of March melt into the swelter of summer
as the fires flare and ebb, only to burn brighter elsewhere,
as the fire rages.
Squares of cloth, the depth of a grave,
divide those already divided,
as the fire rages.
Doctors implore, others lift a finger to the wind
as the poor, the essential, prop us Atlas-like,
while we debate, decide,
decide for the children,
decide for all of us.
We wait for the elixir.
More perish.
The fire rages.
