The L poem.

Lines are being drawn, but the picture is distorted

Anguished cries from the gallery
Shouts and taunts from the overflow
Smug indifference amongst the inner circle

Everybody wants to ride the beaten horse

Pitched tents in the rugged outdoors
Muskets and rifles in hunters’ hands
A fog of foreboding over the battlefield

The stars are no longer so big and bright

Flags and flames on a city street
Screen-lit faces in an empty room
Scribbled hashtags on makeshift signs

The tug of war has begun

(11 November 2016—posted November 12th)