Dew On The Lilacs

Surrogate reality,

divorced from what’s real

 

The news on your cable,

and movies conceal

 

The brands that you purchase,

the labels you wear

 

Convince you of something,

the ‘Emperor’ shares

 

While consciously vacant,

unconsciously lost

 

The dew on the lilacs,

impermanent frost

 

Like quicksand it’s calling,

disguised as a beach

 

Your essence is falling,

and far out of reach

 

As peacocks left strutting,

unable to fly

 

Your time ever wasted

—and waving goodbye

 

(Bryn Mawr College: February, 2021)

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