The Television Screams

The television screams
its rage into the room
from its elevated stage.

Vaulted ceiling, chimney
stones, flanked by windows,
clear and showing peace
outside, belied by what
the television screams.

What blessing is this?

That I can be away from
death, sorrow, and sadness
by simply choosing to be,
is the definition of
privilege. Home away
from home, I’ll stay,
while the Earth Mother
shreds her older works,
dissatisfied with our worth,
and hoping that her daughter
can reimagine the day.

Meanwhile, the television
gives me the safest
play-by-play, in screams,
as the death clock
ticks away.

©️ CG Tenpenny, 2018.

Talk to me.

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