NaPoWriMo 2023 — Day 8: “Delivered”

8. Delivered

spring finally kisses the desert
& a fire scare sends me reeling

the promise of newness
turns out to be the same

recycled clip-show sequel
we should have come to expect

from the puppeteer
who’s traded freedom

for the solace
of a technical machine

once the smoke clears
we’ll begin the questioning

we will chalk it up to
wandering laziness,

mimesis, the pumping out
of something that the spectators

can choke on; we’ll see each other’s
arms again, soak up Vitamin D

& avoid deficiency in some areas,
but deplete our souls once the doors close

night falls & it’s warmer, the sheets
are airing on second story porches

more voices dance along the blessed breeze
but they’re all repeating the same things

in two days we’ll get a summer warning,
in three we’ll get a reminder of winter

April is fickle, she cuts our solid strings
so we move at the sun’s will & receive

what we asked for in a shining new package,
a resurrected, long-forgotten dream

Image by Marc Pascual from Pixabay

Published by Jennifer Patino


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