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stork daddy
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Welcome to Tokyo 2020 A.D.
Some of your family might be dead,
is in any event only verifiable
by screen.
Your life is an anime now,
but perhaps the games should go on.
Now is the time to watch these finely tuned
disease vectors
bang their meat casings against one another
and rejoice,
for the finish line is in sight.
Now is the time for the 100 meter butterfly
in the sea of tranquility
live from the lunar surface.
Clap your hands against your bubble,
or, perhaps, turn away disinterested.
Perhaps now is the time to watch
the earth take a knee
like a sick-eyed elephant
and take a deep breath
as we root for the leather drum to fill
full and root for the heavy foot to plod
and raise and right its cargo,
and clear its eyes.
Now is perhaps the time,
to stay in, be silent,
drop the controllers and remote,
to touch those mercifully allotted to us
the time
for distant performances, and stock sales and pole vaults and wars
to seem unreal and uncompelling.
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