sense of it

Shapeless men and callous women
Have become the dominant figures
Among the skyline. Fountainheads
Wet my collar in cold oil spittle,
Fashioned by the palette of a faceless
Grin. Faith – a simple reduction of
Each image. Hope – a pillow, blanket
And the coming day. The factories
Dead, landmarks smokestack paper
And Joan of Arc can be found outside
The museum selling flowers –
Selling her fake accent as freely as
The prostitute.