This is a sequence of words
plastered together with tears
for what is likely to happen tomorrow.
Tomorrow, one of the wrong people
is likely to triumph, and one of the right ones
is likely to suffer. Two excuses for this
will slam into each other
and the air around them will be bruised.
Someone will put together
a sequence of words as explanation
and bruise the air further. Tomorrow,
one of the words in that sequence will be stolen
for another purpose. The thief will sharpen it
to a point, whittling away
the good intentions it bore originally. Tomorrow,
a slip of a tongue will trigger a bone saw
and dust will fill the lungs of an innocent,
choking them to death. This is a sequence of words
hard at work doing nothing to stop that. Tomorrow
they will mean something and nothing will happen.
Someone will repeat them and nothing will happen.
This is a sequence of words about nothing happening.
This is a sequence of words about tomorrow coming
in spite of nothing happening. These words
are nothing. The bone saw and the choking
and the dust stuffed lungs
and the whittler and the bruised air? Those are something.
but a sequence of words
is nothing at all.