Mariecar MendozaOf Promethean promise we crouch coiled and hesitant
Maintained – is an air of unusual hesitance
Thumbsuckers. Bedwetters. Gothics. Geniuses.
And the police that wheel power from an abundance
of softball games on natural grass
Can you and I be free to express,
no more than a facile question?
That of which wastes our time
The time of which is thought of as prime
Of Promethean promise we are hesitant like a wounded elk
Pitchers and pitchers of pictures of people I don’t adore
Flasks and pipes of rendered lives untrue
Truth has severed her snowy wings from this creation
Faces flex to fast now, and hearts faking happiness
Of Promethean promise I crouch like a hidden agenda
The kinship of my tongue and cheek keep me sane.
– Gino Macaluso
City and regional planning senior