Rondeau II


In simple times, we play with doubt
to chase our sobbing phantoms out.
With harnessed backs and tied-up knees,
we guard our gardens ‘gainst the bees
that swarm and seethe like saints devout
whose faith creates a waterspout.
The faith we have has failed to sprout,
all putrefied and sick with sleaze
in simple times.
But we are hardy. We are stout.
We’ve patched our souls with grief and grout.
The seas are shaking – quelle surprise!
So ill-informed! So ill-at-ease!
Still clinging to the rules we flout
in simple times.


-r. miller


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