Clipped wings is how we say
less fortunate hurtled toward
either triumph or disaster
We recline to watch the hero
an underdog slogging through
a clapped-out thriller
paint pictures of angels
turning like feathers sluggishly
down the city hills—this
the broader measure of living
a slept-under fog a dome of dreams
even our passive sight bribed
or charmed by falling by rhetoric
of dwindling budgets airborne
pledges without deadlines perfuming
our rest—disasters tempests or manmade
fates waiting to weigh down our money
until its green-light promise its green
leaves fall to sleep beneath us or surrender
What we mine mines us and here cradled
at the grassy edge of sound we keep digging
*
And pretend with our eyes
a warm languor
Pretend long Sundays
We coat the hallway
with our edgeless voices or
pretend the hallway
and empty our throats
of the cadence of want of ropes
of tides. Pretend long swathes
of sand and barrenness
to never hear accusation
when one says children
*
Leave the room and change
into a green dress to become
novel as the next woman
lusted-for and liquid as money
Capital makes everyone desperate—
desirous to be capital
Sorry I once apologized
for my apologies
I want to at least pretend to
want to take back what didn't sell me
*
There are signs of growth
and in the best world
it might begin a rapprochement
where among two sides
one is alive and the other
is a derivative name
There can only be one turn
at a time—footloose capital
lured back to its primary lap
*
Work competes in the shadows
and shone upon by night
looks like motion shuffling
Some progress is austerity
The ropier reaches of earth
slapped and sent back to
reckon with climbing
We get physical push
currencies ardently edge up
buoy west and lap our spoils
*
Can you hear ourselves
here—fabled as a voice
pursuing the future
The opulence of princelings
gathering in an unhealthy vacuum
Look around the world
the last chance—breaking
the Olympic record for Olympic cost
Intrepid as energy booming
Transpacific swagger echoing
the renewed momentum of the west
where men carry weight and weight carries
speed and speed itself is wealth
*
While sadly peacemaking
Not all the forecasts will prove
Sadly national happiness
and what remains elusive when war
the oceans distant comets
when tunneling underground or RNA
or history the big prize
Obese continents a determined push
from the top for those craving a boss
the barrel of a pretty weapon
When we mean to talk
safety eaten up by avowals
we trail off to empire
*
The third shadow is timing:
a ruse to support
the décor at the duel
We're talking nailing down
a brokering of urgent relief
We slink we hesitate toward
a reward of others—
a real scorn on America
There are other ways to make
a deal: light the fuse
and freeze funds
by painful step and volatile region
amid the turmoil of the modern—
an unexpected triumph
Every Theodore come forward
His hat and his tail
his sure thing
Sara Renee Marshall hails from the American southwest. She procured B.A.s from University of Colorado in Political Science and History, and an MFA in Poetry. Brave Men Press published her chapbook, Affectionately We Call This The House. Her poems can be found in places like Omniverse, Colorado Review, and elsewhere. In the fall, Sara will begin a PhD at University of Georgia.
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