11.18.2015

Untitled, 11-18-15

Sunglasses
turning autumn
to technicolor
don’t provide shade
against atrocity

Staring directly
at the sun
only burns
the memory of violence
on my retinas

No amount
of hippie peace music
drowns out
the wails of war

Fleece can’t warm
this November

My children
are listening

There’s no avoiding
this