Poetry

Spring 2008

 

 

Allen C. Fischer

Beyond Foreign Policy

As events feed hungers of their own,
I turn away. On a beach in my thoughts,
there are no other worlds, no radio,
television or correspondent by-lines.
There is nothing to buy other than
breakfast, dinner and another day's stay.
No new styles or strident claims tempt me.
Neither crony spirits nor creeds parade
their drum roll and trumpet warnings.
The sands of my island remain free
from beachhead and planted flag.
Early in the day, I wish you "good morning"
and ask if you saw the meteor shower last night,
or were you working on your story of escape
to a remote shore where all that threatens
is the hectoring of gulls, a chill of rain.

 

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