Perdido Poem by S. R. Lavin

Alone in a place where no one breathes
I sleep like stone carved from memory.

I’ve lost in myself what belongs to others.

We lose another President.

From failure, collapse.
From collapse, void.

Night brings the truth back to me,
what could be called peace,
to know something of one’s self
not previously known.

Each morning the dead are collected
from the pavement. They are not counted.
They have no names.

Wealth without justice
condemns the inocent
with the guilty.

All that should be right is wrong.
All that can be done has not been done.

Among the dead are those we love
and those we never know.
How could we?

“We are corrupt. We are losing our soul.”

There is the cold clarity of despair.

The streets are dirty.

Promises have been broken.