by Bill Yarrow
As the commodities market is closed
for repair and as young girls in filigree
slips will one day clutter its brackish aisles
I call upon all cashiers in dungarees who bag
skeins of possibility to contact their flaccid
pastors who alert to maladroit nuance
will bedevil the stingy hinges to revision.
As the accommodation lobby is locked
for holiday and as fey valedictorians with filigree
degrees will one day flourish in its aisles
I call upon the multifarious baristas who
defend the flag children in rags to denounce
the nefarious precinct captains for they are
mismatched overly gregarious and will not serve.
As the consolation mall is marked for demolition
and as blue-collar bankers with filigree fears will one day
reconfigure its darkened aisles I call upon those whose
sinister principles tax the weakness of their conscience
to divest themselves of the rhetoric that bloats their coats
with Sagittarian wind and with rare debauchery marry
themselves to anyone spiritually innocent of crime.
As the turbidity district is targeted for annexation
and as the army of misanthropes with filigree
whips will one day co-opt its mosaic aisles
I call upon all those deracinated by dreaming big
and all those assassinated by dreaming small to burn
their fish-oil capsules to shred their certificates of privilege
and to reach inside alarm and pluck temerity out.
All rights reserved.
This poem was published in Caravel Literary Arts Journal.
"Call to Arms" appears in THE VIG OF LOVE (Glass Lyre Press, 2016).
It also appears in "We All Saw It Coming" (Locofo Chaps 2017).