*Careless*, an erasure poem by Drew Myron

It’s been a week.

What can we do — cling and wait, fret and furrow?

Knowledge may be power, and ignorance bliss, but silence is not golden. Indignation spends energy but does not make change. What do we do in the middle ground, in the mid-day, in the rumble of chaos?

I scratch and swirl. It’s not much. It’s something. It’s nothing. It’s this.

What are you doing?