American Sonnet #7 [Hey Terrance, tonight...]

 

American Sonnet 7 [Hey Terrance, tonight...]

hey Terrance, tonight im thinking of Caligula's madness 

of his slide into the darkness of no-reason and upside 

down antics. it is 3:39 am and the second day since 'Agent

Orange' was convicted on 34 counts. Interestingly it is

Black/Brown bodies willing to hold him accountable 

for his misdeeds. The swirl of uncertainty coupled with 

brazen fear at what tomorrow will bring settles thickly 

on humans. most of us are moving hesitantly under this

blazing sky, our footsteps uneven and our breath ragged. 

these are topsy-turvy days, and most of us are a hair's

breath away from running screaming from this burning 

house of cards. 'how are you?' 'im fine...' all words in that 

frame ring hollow. the smiles we flash at each other are

plastic, and forced. reality is dead and we perpetually 

move in twilight hoping for the brilliance of day.