Control - Ghostlimb

Our surroundings do not beseech us for our control

For what we do not know

The grains of sand that erode away

From our shrinking beaches

From senescent chaparral

To the sinking cities on an alluvial plain

Our meandering rivers have never been so straight

The effectiveness can only be bought for so long

By the citizens whose disillusionment

Is crowded by the weight of the blame

On the hazardous state’s inability to control

The uncontrollable

While people sit singing silent songs

As they wash away into the granite gray