Nothing Will Ever Be The Same Again
We seldom grieve for the struggling prey
clutched in the falcon’s talons, unless we’re
thinking metaphor. Sometimes, we cherish
a quick last look at the deceased, as if
we might otherwise forget; sometimes,
we prefer not to see the vacant stare
from the glassy eyes, knowing nothing will
ever be the same again. But when someone
we love has been long suffering and death
is the only relief, we pray for
a speedy demise. Out of compassion.
Gone missing these days as America
turns itself glassy-eyed. Nothing will ever
be the same again between erstwhile neighbors.