Lately I wear sanity close to my skin.
Thin as a slip
it could slide over my bones at any moment,
pool at my feet.
The world’s gaslighting us all.
Surreal flickers its endless feed—
dystopia a slow seduction.
At work last week a guy stood up
and slashed a knife down his screen.
When he walked by on his way out
no one understood
or maybe everyone understood.
Outside wind rattles the panes
and night sweeps across suburbia.
The tick of the clock is a metronome—
the footfall of the end of things,
America’s timebomb heart.
Lori Lamothe is the author three poetry books, Trace Elements, Happily and Kirlian Effect. Her poems have appeared in Jet Fuel Review, The Literary Review, Memorious, What Rough Beast, Verse Daily and elsewhere. In 2018, she received her fourth Pushcart nomination.
Photo by Frank Okay.