Dew On The Lilacs

Surrogate reality,
divorced from what’s real

The news on your cable,
and movies conceal

The brands that you purchase,
the labels you wear

Convince you of something,
the ‘Emperor’ shares

While consciously vacant,
unconsciously lost

The dew on the lilacs,
impermanent frost

Like quicksand it’s calling,
disguised as a beach

Your essence is falling,
and far out of reach

As peacocks left strutting,
unable to fly

Your time ever wasted
—and waving goodbye

(Bryn Mawr College: February, 2021)