mangled metaphors
left me
stricken
with doubt as they forsook
picket fences
for split rails
they stumbled far afield
where they wander, limping
out from under my skirts
around the outskirts
of my forlorn village
striking poses
of vaunted dignity.
they leapt with alacrity
unbefitting of their ancient
weary souls
firing afterburners
as they shot the moon.
they worked diligently
those valiant metonymies
labored and strained
as they strove to build a future
that could not be contained
in a house of brick and mortar
big bad wolf notwithstanding.
they stumbled on debris
littered from existence
discovered the prophesied prosperity
a preposterous prevarication.
now they dodder
as drunks or toddlers
on those picket lines
signs of the times
dragging bedraggled signs
indisputably protesting
catachrestically catatonic
marching to the beat
of a tone deaf drummer
of adumbration bereft
