Poem: Too Much Tumult

Nobody trusts anyone now, and we are all very tired. There is a long road

for return, but anyone even bothering to venture down will do so in the back seat

of an Uber, scrolling vacuously deep on a phone they’re still paying off each month.

We were hurtling here before the hurtle; we were hurtled here through too much hurting and

too many people with their …