". . . the waters shall never again . . . "
This is no longer Camelot where it
only rains on the Queen's garden.
This is the 21st Century -
bereft of autopilot air-cars,
video-phone booths,
robot housemaids, sidewalks rolling
between cities in the ionosphere.
It feels like ancient days
wrenched from a grainy colorized movie
where dragons deforest The Islands,
David repositions The Rock,
Noah puts his faith in ravens, and giants
row roots to keep the snake in place.
This is the 21st century birthed
before the midwife ready,
dying before it knows its voice.
Stars hide behind gray damp clouds,
the moon seems pasty, the sun feeble in its prime.
We're back where we began.
The waters rise
and I stand alone, my left hand empty,
my right unable to open.
© 2002 Gary Blankenship
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