On one side, the endless travails
of telenovela or pale, wispy-haired
K-drama characters. On the other,
saints and their ladders,
lanced breasts and
severed heads. The anguish
of families separated
at a border; documentation
of the number of times migrant
girls bled or did not bleed
each month. Cells echoing
with the distinct sound
made by children crying.
Shoes and pink
plastic toothbrushes scattered through
the desert. Far away,
marble balconies where
little gods fuck
each other and eat expensive sushi
after closing
some new deal in China.
Warning: don’t watch
the video of the most recent mass
shooting; but if you did,
here is what to do about it.
In response to Via Negativa: Contemplative.