Two Guardians

My words were sent underground to where the toggle switch detonates.

That was the glare our voices were avoiding. There was something also

broken about the obedience of this retainer. The arcades weren’t

semaphores just because the arrows leading there facilitated those

of us in line as though reliant on east or west quadrants. The ticket

master was prone to elide requests from the travelers, the sliding doors

sounded a fanfare for the common man, get faster as thought, or mind

the gaps. What I infer can never altogether establish a space adequate

to the body count. The platform motivates two guardians who were

instructed in safekeeping to usher me from harm’s way but my stand

point so recedes from this tableaux as to acknowledge a footprint

perspective. Translucent envelope inside remaindered by the riptide

or such tunnel vision as to warrant arrest. Why I was sent to the nether

world inflicted with no wound. Someone lets fall a pair of zip locks

containing the pixie sticks of this conspiracy; what I had to say was

sent, I mentioned this I think already, underground switch and toggle

intended to ignite what I could never bring myself to mean. Where

the voices were avoiding me—hands outstretched at quarter day to hold

back the beam—was there something broken? I weather compliant. I rally.

Source: PoetryNow (2017)