Outside Monticello

As my cat lays her killed bird
At my step, pleased, I lay
This at yours: when the word
Of slander came to slay
Your dream of self as good,
Did you give your rage a season
Off road, crash the woods
And howl for reasons
As if another bride had died?
Or did you pray for common sense?
Now you know: just step outside,
Where loitering and rude events
Beyond your innocent invention
Will introduce you to disgrace,
Trip your liberal intentions,
Suckerpunch you in the face.
Deep breaths, Tom. There's art
At this low common table
Where we eat each other's hearts:
The shadow's shadow, able
To employ our wounds, defy
The soothing grave, and be.
For us, for it, the wolf I
Wrestle by the ears is me.

Joe Wrobel