last(ing) days

walking around a four-year loop

in that space between prayer and possibility –

the end of empire.

would you look back from the safety of distance?

would you recall a high-water mark?

recorded as postcards from the perimeter

most souvenirs aren't designed to last,

days never do. 

what whisper does the expanse make

while other voices are arguing?

the static charge of a single file.

a fluorescent lunch break whimper.

what collective roar,

bellied for generations,

can be policed?

it will be monday soon.