Local government, wretched round, which
everyone claims to care about.

A storm. A virus. Unprovable. they call it “some sort of new device”--
it is nothing new.
Facebook videos condemn the 1 percent, demand that we look up;
I regret not looking up...I know this.

I catch his eye.
There is no complacency; he called it war.
Little boy. He cries to his mother.
He cannot fight the thought.

Catastrophic moments like explosions on an endless row.
“something that tracks us…”
We are not all safe.
Without guidance we crave “more”,
some regret it; we were told desire is fatal.

It swish swirls in
the valley of trees;
his last stroll.

He does not know to
catch the shred of a breeze.
Who knew that moment
would doom us all.