What have I done here
that warrants at least
a modicum of praise?
To raze a city is difficult enough,
but to raise one as your own?
Now that’s entertainment.
I’ve been assured that the terms
of my estrangement
have been made quite clear.
But in my sleep-deprived state,
they more or less read like hieroglyphs
with no modern equivalencies.
It isn’t enough
to merely shake the dust.
You might have to rattle it,
roll it, just a bit, and even then,
the most you’ll get is an allergic response.
This was supposed to be my year,
as I recall. Yet each day to this point
has served only disaster,
and fate has the audacity
to demand I foot the bill.

-r. miller

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