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      July 1, 2020Miller’s ThumbL. Ward Abel

      I.
       
      How deep is the green skin
      out to the east and away
      into wideness?
       
      Aerial shots taken without
      consent show just how
      alone we are.
       
      And nobody said anything
      about consequences.
      So, no escape this time.
       
      We’re known by
      our remaining, not
      how we arrive.
       
       
      II.
       
      Pages don’t turn
      they’re burned.
       
      Be careful what
      you fish for. You
       
      could kill it. And poets
      are the first to go.
       
      Riddle me the weight
      of civilization.
       
      But scales vary
      with the miller’s thumb.

      from Poets Respond

      L. Ward Abel

      “Where to begin when every day is more emotional than the last one? Just about every article or newscast is dealing with the state of the pandemic, politics, protests, and violence happening around us. Sometimes it’s like the seams of our world are fraying. My poems deal with the idea of confusion, fear, rage, coming round again to confusion, as I perceived from the BBC article (and many other ones) about, for example, the increased use of fireworks in the night—not celebration or commemoration, but a sobering metaphor for what happens when the connections within society break.”