How do I glitter empty
when leather words
are all I hear?
You know the kind,
cracked, broken,
overused, beyond repair.
I waver between rage
and whatever while staring
into my coffee cup searching
for a crystal ball in the caffeine.
If there’s a spotlight in hell,
I know a few who would
burn the lightbulb into their image.
There’s not enough school in a politician
to read a room or hear an opinion
that hasn’t fallen out of their own tongue.
I’m having a moment among many.
Today I’m feeling like the news is
filled with a pack of rabid children
I’d like to chase with a needle
so they won’t put their teeth
in anyone else.
©Susie Clevenger 2025
