By the Comfort of Burned Things

inside is all broken
here now
in blind comfort
we will stay
entranced, anchored
in the west

so lovely, so ugly 

we will remain

so very trapped
in a thick stench

of tradition

and an expectation

of warmth

we will burn flesh

 we will burn bone

we will burn nations

and we will pretend

all is tinder

for comfort 

and the greatness

of a broken place

Author's Note

Reviews

[John the Baptist]

Is this spare, somber piece a commentary on the state of the nation? If so, the poet seems to be saying the country is "broken," immobile in tradition, smugly believing all will continue as it always has. There seems to be an indictment of our destructive effect on other countries while we pretend it is tinder for our continued greatness. Grim observations, indeed.

On the other hand, the poet could be talking about the president's latest tweet storm.

[Davidgeo]

If you can read this poem I am talking about you.

(me and everyone else etc.)

[Amanda Trerotola]

I love the flow of this. Well done.