the circle sings a round of protest marchers crash through the square but my heart thumps its own protest signs on for love to an open-ended slog my masked mummer of doubt riots through gardens of deception knocks down arrogant losers posers without shame slashes sloganed preconceptions and my iconolatry falls riddled with pangs racking enough to put my passive life at risk forcing me to tuck this unfathomable world tightly inside my once restricted embrace
©2021 Jane Kennedy Mitchell
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