I wish to recognize a world
Of three generations prior
Behold willed ignorance
prefacing
the beginning of the end
And what defines a generation?
Tragedy—around which we organize
Well, cheers to progress!
Emerging problems and modern answers
Cycles of collateral damage
We’re dying to overcome
Because when the smog clears
I am a great grandmother
Glimpsing the Tatra peaks from Krakow
And swans parading Italian canals
Intoxicated by a fickle hope
That momentary reprieve
As we advance our chaos
Sheltered away—always drifting
Further, then hurtling
Fateful comet or
Weapon of mass destruction we are
Killing ourselves with knowledge
Flinging solutions and
Waiting