Some Mondays are more brutal than others.

RUDE AWAKENING

Thunder protests

Dappled grey morning,

Skyline of baby teeth,

Gush of soldier ants.

Pesky dream flickers

Will not scat. They invade

Dismissive e-missives,

Monster blogs,

Yammering news;

Mothers Day shooting,

A spate of immolations,

The highwayman who surveilled

A close to the road family,

Playing, exposed, oblivious

To all the uses of duct tape

Though the kids knew

They were too puny to win,

That you can’t move a house

If it isn’t made of Lego.