TRUMP AS A FIRE WITHOUT LIGHT #441
The curtains are not bodies, but we love them like bodies. We close them as we open our dreams. We see the faces we need to see. We are disconnected from the carnage. It is selfish of us, but it’s keeping us alive and in love with what it means to be alive. If we have that, then we can be the fists we need to be the rest of the time.
By Darren C. Demaree
I am the author of six poetry collections, most recently “Many Full Hands Applauding Inelegantly” (2016, 8th House Publishing). I am the Managing Editor of the Best of the Net Anthology and Ovenbird Poetry.