We all have a name
Pulped out of public histories
That explains who we are,
at this point in time.
The lexicon is up to date
to prevalent biases.
Another time will call us
its dark ages,
Era of unconsciousness.
The genocide of the money-less,
poverty, diseases, mental illness
are results of the crime.
They will explain us with such finality.
Our beauty standards: primitive.
Our songs of love: naive.
Our food: poison.
They will wonder how we fail
to see our own mortality,
they will probe for unknown neural viruses
to explain this blindness.

A generation of onlookers;
where the whole century
is the scene of the crime.

11/11/2018

Posted on 11/11/2018
Copyright © 2024 Johanna May