This is the age of

This is the age of
Newspaper deaths and TV popularity
Lowered heads and muscle memory in thumbs
Reaching out behind the screens and beyond for
Juicy news to suck on like citrus candy
They bite your eyes and neck in a deceiving flavor
An escape from the slow pace of
Breathing trees

This is the age of
Spectacular violence and multidimensional truths
Dust showers on exploding children and
Bullet lungs gasping for dead medics
And expected silence from the newsstands that Friday morning
As a woman looks right and left before crossing the street
On her way to an office of some
Humanitarian Organization

This is the age of
Political sexuality and heady womanhood
Pink pussy hats and banned burqas
Not enough people ask what is there to be gained in universalizing our footsteps when
It seems that we are all being stepped on by the same people
When one-night stands and going to school both become nightmares
And there are still clitorises being sliced off as we speak but shh—
A fifty-year-old divorcee moans in pleasure with two men
In her studio apartment in Montmartre

This is the age of
Generous plastics and bloodied elephant rides
Visual representation and convenience marketed to dried up hearts who might
Perhaps be rejuvenated by the taste of nature’s exotics
They love it organic
And so they buy and throw and travel
But without gravity or white rhinoceroses to hold us down we float
In a dazed stagnancy and fantasize
Endless possibilities in a possibly ending world.

 

Artwork by Yeo Tze Yang, “Trash”, 2017

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