In This Hour

In This Hour

A Poem by Carey Lenehan

We live our tidy lives from minute to minute, but not all minutes are the same for everyone. What don't we see, from our safe, computerized lives?


In this hour

Categorized immigrants plod, hands filled with hope

in two directions, with one expression

Muted by dispossession and unsure

whether they will emerge

on the side of freedom, or despair.

In this hour

Low flying stockbrokers fall into ruin whilst

corrupt investment bankers

massage their payoffs

from the decks of superyachts

and fondle shiftless skelemodels looped on crack

In this hour

Copper leaves drift relentlessly from autumn trees

falling with the grey children, exhausted by Darfur,

tiny amps of current dispersing, lighting out, switching over,

abandoning the world of light

for a place on the forest floor.

In this hour,

presidential overtones speak in tongues

tangling sanity to a nest of snakes so profound

that madness always reigns

whilst the flooded and dispossessed share only one word.


No translator necessary

In this hour

hearts begin to beat, icecaps break apart

and species cease relentlessly

as office wall clocks mark time with

the tapping of keys

and nothing changes

In this hour

All will be well, and all will be hell

and all manner of things will stay the same

in this hour


© 2008 Carey Lenehan

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Added on September 3, 2008
Last Updated on September 3, 2008


Carey Lenehan
Carey Lenehan


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