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)
Copyright © Kurt Philip Behm | Year Posted 2021
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