Ephemera Febris

Poignancy is unbearable
Once it springs as an oasis
From the naturally arid mind.

The waters of its clear, dark well
Are sweet and slightly metallic
And will drown you if you drink long.

All that’s real lacks certain kindness,
And we crave kindness, so what’s real
Anyway, that we should name it?

It’s because we don’t want it, we
Know it, know it well, every one
Of us, or almost, we name it,

We keep it in our sights: what’s real.
Because if we could break it down,
It might blow away from our need

For kindness, continent reduced
To shifting sand dunes. Oases
Wait for us. We believe they must.