Stonehenge

I’m afraid

That stray cultural thread

Waving above the fabric

Long ignored

Has been pulled

I’m afraid

An uneasy order has

Unraveled

Uncontrolled by small generals

Hovering over spreadsheets

I’m afraid

We’ve slept

Too peaceably

Allowing bogus men

To do their battles

On our behalf

I’m afraid

We are freezing life

A peace handcuffed to

A failed post-war

Parchment ideal

I’m afraid

We’re melting calamity

Spreading red

Across planned communities

In unplanned retribution

I’m afraid

We’ve failed a test

To which we were given the answers

I’m afraid

The hand we’ve elected is cloven

A hoof with 50 apostles and

All the good lines

I’m afraid

The last man standing

Won’t be man or standing

Just

The illiterate hand  hovering

Over our thread-thin culture

ignorant of

The implacable

Geometry of chaos

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