After The Interest

Ominous interludes,

We’re left shadowed
By a new curse,

There’s an apprehension,
A hunger,
A new dehydration,

A collective will
Unravelled,
A vortex ushering.

The sky is lost,
Throwing up numbers
By chance

And we’re out of
Explanations,
There’s no history or science,

There’s no logical
Calculations
Or assured wizardry,

Unknotting dilemmas
And plotting escape routes
From doubt and uncertainty,

From this forgotten village
Lit by dim limelight
And bruised by the mayhem,

A post-war reminder
That the news crews
Don’t stay long

Once the worst
Starts its fading
And the words disappear.

In a cracked, dusty corner,
Scratching at continuity,
Peeved and vulnerable,

One finger typing,
Slowly wondering
And spent,

Crooked hope sits obliquely,
A hiatus in the suffering,
All feeble and quaint,

A pant where a chant lay,

He breaks wind
And retires.

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