A new storm has since not come or happen.
There’s no big news. We’re still grappling,
With an old demon or an old righteous thing;
Letters remain changeless in any ink,
Age has not aged them. All summed.
Breasts still sift out milk from the blood.
Weighed pain proves unlikely in its disaster,
Or any juggleries of feelings for that matter,
A terrifying cycle of miracles. Eyelids still blink
At once unless you’re winking. So here’s a wink.
No big trouble ripples on…