Daydreaming in a Time of Panic | Leslie McGrath

So you have found me heartsick, curled under 
the throw someone’s grandmother crocheted 
and that I bought at Goodwill because I’m mindful and adjunct.

I’m not doing nothing here. I’m calculating the angle
of light that casts a long and chilling shadow
onto the largest screen on earth: millions of turned backs

of tweeters, texters, and trolls hell-bent 
over devices designed to connect but which only sift
self from self and will continue to do so until

someone with a working moral compass, someone 
who senses the hypnotic sleep of history coming round 
and round again writes ALARM! ALARM!

gigantic and trance-piercing on the wind no blanket
will protect me from. These hands are busy
with my rosary of hurts, but if they weren’t!

What would I become? Bell that warns the world.
What have I become? Talking mynah bird.
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