1
Dear Max and Maxine,
The coast is not yet clear.
Storm warnings are still in effect.
You couldn't have picked a worse time
for glad tidings.
Stay hidden
in the gauzy, tender folds
of dreamland
until further notice.
2
My Sweet Little Gossamers,
What’s the rush?
There is nothing left but consequence
of the industrial colossus
your parents’ parents were the last ones
with liberty to take for granted.
When we walked away
we never dreamed
a day would come
when we couldn't find
a spot of wasteland remaining
to spit on
in defiance or disgust.
3
My Wonderful Un-Created Ones,
What can your progenitors offer
to make it worth your while
to trade paradise
for this parking lot?
This Eden is in rapid transition from Earth to Mars.
Deconstruction signs are everywhere.
The moment you are born
your bones will already be fossils
not worth finding
by anyone intent on seeing
signs of life
worth living.
4
My Foolish Urchins,
Remain in God.
There is no greater proof of Him
than the silence
He has no need to break
as long as you stay put
in paradise.
5
My Good Little Godlings,
The newborn forget everything they knew
within days of their arrival.
A growing number of them
think the place they left
is filled with vestal virgins
just itching for the sex
they were promised
for blowing up a coffee shop.
Keep the remembrance
of true heaven alive
by laughing at any thought of leaving
that unruined realm of souls.
6
Dear Baby Jesus and Mary,
Please don’t become the price
your parents had to pay
for a roll in the hay.
Stay where you belong
and let the joy of their sex
be the reason
not an excuse
for feeling it.
7
My Dearest Gleams,
I’m not saying to postpone
your travel plans forever.
What I’m saying is this:
Your parents have to earn the right
to dream of inviting you here.
The right to life
is the right to life worth living.
Those who force you on us now
can’t expect you
to fix the mess
they made of the place
and which your births
will only make worse.
--Ardmore, February 27, 2014
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