power

surface tension

not even in the corridors
of tradition-hobbled government
buildings does this beast
raise its head, civil and uncivil
servants scurrying along
robots of invisibly prescribed
policy and hunger

the wood panelling lost its
patina of respect a long time ago

in some back room somewhere,
a dacha, a boardroom, a
a secret apartment, a lone hut
down a mud track, a secure
satellite link blinks in the night

under the surface

just one person pushing buttons
moving wealth this way and that
arms and grain and lies
vitriol and propaganda and death

hidden depths
this power

R 13/03/2024 13:43