Fred Aiken Writing

eyelashes pickled in tears made
from swimming in dreams shut down and outsourced
to developing countries that can dream cheaper
by the hour
by far

ending a game of musical chairs for the purpose
of stepping out into the hallway to have a very, serious, conversation
with our kids’ future teacher who doesn’t
believe in math
but keeps adding the slumbering numbers to
find the answer to abstract equations
left in fields
of grass
of blood