The spread of Fear.

One sentence and the spark is lit,

a flint and steel on the wick of terror,

Adjective, adjective, adjective, noun,

the spark becoming forest fire, people burning like trees,

like spirits.

Like paper.


Like paper, black and white, truth and lies;

not even the authors know the difference,

while pokers, drawn quick and fast, stab and rake

dreams and hopes. Pokers of thick

and black,

inky words.


Because Fear hunts in the packs, an unseen mistress,

her voice coaxing, reassuring the mass of who is to blame;

the veiled women, shielding from sharpened tongues;

the non-English speaking shopkeepers, unlearned

to protect

their reputation;


the children of the plight, innocent of all but being alive.

Their grim the reminder of unpleasant integration, the As and Bs the

symbol of meritocratic segregation, their medical care considered

undeserved (they fell on the other side of the Line and we

should not

help them).


Fear strikes cold and deliberate, the match and flames blue, scolding,

oceanic effigy of 13% of the population, white ice etched

in our skin, our hair, our hearts; rejecting her red-lipped

furious lamentations means accepting that

of which

we are afraid.









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