Clock Wise
Two pennies on dead eyes.
The living laid out in tubular ranks
as if giving thanks to the majesty of rows.
An Instagram Pope barks secular commands
while pilgrims charge a ruined castle.
Clockwise they all turn deadly
a carousel of lost battles
made the State of Union.
Between the genders
alien referees call the shots.
Procreation is blessed by none now,
and yet the pro-nouns multiply like the unborn.
Turning hands stir the melting in the pot,
a Halloween greeting card from our inner demons
drops like an A bomb
upon a Chinese welcome mat.
Rabbit holes in a top hat.
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