I know my place, here between the have nots and the one percenters. Aware of the inequities and the extravagances,
My heart catches at the injustices, the injuries, those who’ve not fallen through the cracks, as much as having been ground into them.
The ledge I occupy, precarious as it is, teeters on the edge of future fortunes and unseen pitfalls. I know my place.
Darts in the Dark
My time is now spent throwing darts into the dark, hoping that one sticks and makes its mark in the cork.
My aim must be off, maybe, or the target has been moved. I only know that my darts miss their marks
And clatter harmlessly onto the concrete where they’ll remain until the lights are restored. I’m a fool, but not
Inclined to go searching for sharp metal objects in this room, this tomb, where the light is forbidden and my feet bare.