The Cheering
Sorrow is hollow ground
with dried mud
cracking trapped space.
It’s wearing green screen suits
against a green wall
freezing everything but faces
with movies projected on cheeks
we watch in the nude
drinking opinionated Scotch
with American inhalable fear.
We are molecules, cells
invisible parts of something
that brightens in abundance
or bounces in 4:00 AM non-stop minds.
Hyperbole is our common name
trained to the glare that scares and moans.
We move as if concrete were setting
on multiple alternate lives.
Sensation is the escape we love.
Imagination winks us on.
Sculptures by Belinda Subraman