This Is Not a Miracle

The federal government will undertake.

The disaster zone closely relates

in many ways

to roads and bridges and other
water systems,

shortly to be elected.

Say that again? You can say that again.

Robot broom sweeping gingerly
out of tune.

*

Poor monster, what troubles you now?

The cold-blooded footage
grows rhetorical,

grayness of opinion looming

over the frame,

how could she quickly explain?

From evil of origin sprang species of flowers,

or some such romantic sound,

favoring drama over data that required collection,
a fluid rhythm, its forests of symbols.

The gaze proverbial

falls for the very own, lawfully wedded,
time, as always,

the finest enemy.

Cut!

You’d better blow your nose again.


*

You gotta have a system, dear,

at least, at last,
a list of things

to do or get lost, lust upon,

lest juicier fancies turn up, prettier,
speedier, filled with orchid heads.

Bee in awe for them

will not leave the premises till the fat lady,
stung, starts to sing.