there is rage
it swirls in the tea
whips through the leaves in the street
I have it here,
my state secret

those of us living in the aftermath
those of us creeping through the recovery
hold invisible power over
those of you who only ever sing at funerals and weddings

or so I'd have you believe.

Dear Marianne,
if only you had taught me the secret of fire
I'd be civilised

c.f. this century's greatest legacy
is abandonment

well,
there is rage
I exhale it with the smokers on the side streets of drab bars
it has always seemed but a storm in a tea cup
so I expect there will be some excitement
when it tears the world apart.