Anxieties, anxieties — rabid dogs
On chains.
Hope — a stick in the fist,
Last efforts — in the legs.

The sky — propped up with matchsticks,
The earth — shifting sand.
Betrayal — open baiting,
Across the river — a broken little bridge.

All the more in March
You won’t break the proud —
On that other bank
A little hill is marked.