When crookedness lights every corner
how do I wear the cloak of conscience?
We fill ourselves with the chicanery of cats
or the golden mean of the creative impulse.
Art is a date stamp without a mark: When losses
border your brief nonchalance scans the insignia.
I couldn’t find you under cover of the cosmic
so I hinged our home in the subconscious.
Multiform impressions cover your cut and mine:
The dead are the easiest to unfollow on SocMed.
Sanjeev Sethi
Picture Nick Victor
.