Sometimes I worry the sun is baking the glue out of everything.
That within fifty years our freeways & condos would collapse
without the constant lubrication of attention. Our hearts, too,
are being used up, a bit each day, so I can’t be sure
a little neglect isn’t a relief. We think of love as the panacea,
but I’ve seen it gut foundries to girders faster than fire.
- I adapted the title of this poem from Dr. Russel Hirst's article Virtues and Vices of Omission.
- This poem was first published in Connotation Press.