A new poem by Darrell Epp


stupefied ex-beauty queens
facebooking old flames.
husbands, freshly neutered,
mowing america’s lawns.

the unspeakable realization
of futility, the superstitious
rabble with their pitchforks.
have a beer, read the paper.

circular logic, like after a
layoff.  sweaty comedians
dying for a laugh.  photons
like a shower of sparks,

jolting the extras back into
wakefulness.  it doesn’t last.
focus on the routine, forget what
you see when you close your eyes.