Baby Doomers
It is an odd subtlety,
the value of gold,
such beauty in convergence
with an ugliness of society.
We wrap ourselves in armor,
color of gold and sun and blood;
we tell ourselves we’re worthy
of richness once associated
with God.
We are Gods, we say,
we run the world
in gold and sun and blood;
we flit like little dragonflies,
wing-ends clipped to keep us
here, against the ground,
we might warm ourselves
inside our armor,
bug eyes wide,
full of value and fear.
We are Gods, we say,
we must buy things
as the Gods create,
rings and shoes not subtle
in the glint of a sunlight
tinged in blood.
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Kelsey Elizabeth Robb is a recent graduate of Bradley University in Peoria, Illinois. She loves poetry and art, and particularly loves writing for specific prompts. She is currently working on gaining a teaching certificate and teaching English in Ecuador.