Tainted Soil

In the seesawing dragonfly ocean, surrounded by weaving boats
and beanstalk masts that glare ashore, I sat in a kayak contemplating

remembering the protest for more air, a march filled with pronouns
and his miscategorized “flu” that has reduced many family dinners

So much has changed but so little has coercively been reconditioned;
a one-sidedness which has rotted our polluted roots has sprouted

gutting Democracy’s temple with the gashing paddle of ignorance,
for now I’ll watch the sunset because tomorrow we must skirr hate

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