I had been going to rant about the massacre of nineteen small children in Texas, but what’s the point? It happens regularly and nothing ever changes, no massive organised protests, strikes, blockades. They’ll get in their convoys to protest about having to wear a paper face mask but not to save children from having their bodies ripped to pieces. It’s a society that places the right of moral cretins to pose with big guns above the right of children to live. Twisted, inhuman.
Wind swirls east then west
sun flickers and goes out
but the blackbirds sing regardless.
So quiet here without the girls, gone home, back to the city, and husband away for the day. Only Trixie sits in front of the computer, playing with the mouse. I hope it will live. Dogs snooze, contented to have full bellies and a bit of fussing. I wonder about the fate of the killer whale in difficulty in the Seine, how you live with the pieces of a child, where human selfishness will lead.
There is a hole somewhere
a sheer cliff
a well with no bottom
a mouth full of teeth.
We will all meet there someday.