~for Cathy Leff, curator~
no bugler blaring ‘pay attention’ to me,
no emergent bad news bearish telephone cell call of an absurd tonal,
no alarm clock retaliating agin a humans daily defying double-slap,
no young children sneaking in, with a guard dog in accompaniment,
joy-ending a deep parental sleep from the exhaustion they induced
but as if shot, the humans burst into alertness,
from prone to moan, they instantly revert, becoming **** Erectus,
gasping from shock troop dreams, and a chest-pounding message,
a whisper growing, an ever increasing crescendo, an unnatural law,
an unsullied foot-stomping battle cry that self-terrorizes, undeniable:
write me, your poem, write me now!
ah, it must be 5:00 am...