"Calefactor"
An old, mad, blind, despised and dying king
distracting from his crimes begins a war:
in this wintry discontent, nothing's more clear
& all a poet now can do is burn.
Our old sad habits, not so much deranged
as prodded by a chill beyond our ken,
our rabid discourse, this too must remain
sacrosanct, while bombs drop, soon revenged,
kigh teal ploo. It's hard to sit this out,
having seen much idiocy go down
—a new sun ev'ry day if you don't learn—;
ravels & dribbles, subject to hurt scorn;
bare trees' shadows my wheels in seconds cut,
the one thing left not taunting me with thwart.
"Why men rape seems to be a niche topic of interest reserved for women.
Why men do or don't get caught raping however, now that's a universal interest. Call in the experts."
—Celeste Davis via Annie Finch on Substack
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