Modern Sonnet 241. That Old Belief in Progress.
We used to think the future dangerous
Because who knew the new behind its doors?
Now what tomorrow has in store for us
Is nothing we’ve not failed to face before.
That bogus old belief in progress broke
And spilled a killing, acid apathy,
That once stayed in our skin, but then awoke
To find no forward bright-lit scenery,
So sloshed around our expectations, stopped,
Then settled, burnt a hole right through the floor,
And left us looking downwards as the clocks,
Hung Daliesque, fell screaming from the walls.
Who once held on to dreams of what would come,
Now grasp at memories of all that’s gone.
Lockdown Sonnet Twenty-three.
Andrew Barker.
22 июл 2022
